Attack on the White Hart
by WilliamJago
Summary: Warhammer Story; Imperial Year 1025. My first fanfiction. A traveller lodges at the White Hart Inn, only to find it assailed during the night. Will he escape? What of the other guests? All reviews appreciated. Rated T for violence. Finaly complete.
1. Ambush

Greetings everyone—this is my first attempt at writing fan fiction and the story is just something I threw together in my spare time, so I just hope it proves a reasonably entertaining read. I readily welcome all suggestions to improve my writing skills and feedback would be gretlyappreciated provided it is constructive.

Disclaimer: the participating characters contained in this story are my own creation. Everything else-the world of Warhammer, its history and the historical characters and places mentioned are the property of Games Workshop. This story is intended for viewing on only and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

_Ambush_

Dusk was approaching when Karl rode into the camp. Tying the chestnut mare to a nearby sapling and removing the saddle, he made his way to the fire where the others were seated.

Konrad glanced up at his approach, the glow of the fire casting flickering shadows across his face, illuminating a jagged scar running from the corner of his right eye to his lip. Karl had often wondered how he'd got that, but when asked the corporal merely grunted and refused to be drawn.

Removing his sword he sat down next to Reitz, a tall, gaunt man of about 40. Reitz had joined the patrol only two weeks previously from a posting further north and, preoccupied with his duties, Karl had not had sufficient time to get to know him.

"Anything to report?".

"No Corp. I've combed the area north of here for three hours. If they came this way they've left no trace". Karl reached out and tore a chunk from a loaf of stale bread. "Where's Frederick?" he asked, suddenly noting the absence of their fourth comrade.

"Up there" Konrad gestured absently to a large tree at the edge of the clearing. "His turn as sentry". He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Seems you were right Reitz. Come first light we'll rejoin the column".

Reitz nodded, visibly relieved. Karl couldn't blame him. The Forest of Shadows which covered most of Ostermark-northernmost province of the Empire-was a dark and forbidding place. Heavily overgrown with scrub, it was infested with brigands, Orcs and who knew what else. The situation was becoming worse under the rule of Emperor Ludwig 'the Fat', with outbreaks of plague and increased civil unrest leaving imperial authorities heavily overstretched trying to maintain order.

Unsurprisingly everyone in the patrol had been on edge since leaving the main column eight days previously. They'd set out from the garrison town of Mordheim with orders to sweep south as far as the river Stir. Two days into the patrol they'd come across the remains of a looted caravan. Karl was no stranger to the horrors of war and had thought he'd seen everything. One look at the scene had proved him wrong.

It must have been well planned. Whoever, or whatever, was responsible had waited for the wagons to enter a narrow track-way before sweeping out of the thick bushes lining either side. It must have been quick, or at least he hoped so. The bodies had been left where they fell-some felled by crossbow, others by sword. No-one had been spared, even a young boy travelling with the party had been felled, his skull split open by a blow from a heavy weapon. The wagons themselves had been ransacked. Anything of value had been seized, the rest was cast aside like so much rubbish.

The carrion birds had scattered at their approach. When the order for burial was given Karl had witnessed their gruesome work, the torn flesh and empty sockets where the birds had torn away the softer tissue in a feeding frenzy. The black flock had not dispersed until after the last victim was buried, their gaze never wavering as they searched for scraps of flesh. The memory made him shudder even now. Something about their beady stares had unnerved him, had made him feel as though they simply viewed him as another piece of carrion.

Outriders had discovered two trails leading from the area, one heading west and the other south-west. Commander Marlowe, a young man recently promoted to the post, had decided to split the patrol. He led eight men south west whilst Karl's group was ordered to pursue the second trail.

That trail had gone cold after five days, since when they had acted largely on guesswork. Finally they'd been forced to concede defeat.

"Do you think the Commander had better luck Corp?

"Possibly". Konrad stirred the remnants of his porridge. "We'll know when we catch up with him".

"Aye, though why he sent us off alone I'll never know. What are the four of us supposed to do against a party of raiders?"

"We do what we're paid for soldier. Our orders were to find those raiders and act as we saw fit. As it is we need not concern ourselves further. Come tomorrow we turn back".

Karl leant back, resting his head against the saddle. "Yes sir".

Konrad never saw the attack. The first inkling he had was a terrific blow to the his chest. The impact pitched him backwards where he sat and drove the air from his lungs, choking off his scream before it could form. He landed hard, hands clutching his chest. His left hand closed over something solid. He tried to lift his head, tried to see the object, but his strength was already fading. As his head fell back the last thing Konrad saw was the evening sky tinged with the red glow of the fading sun-as bright as the red stain forming around the bolt in his chest. Then darkness took him.

Both men stared, dumbfounded. Before either thought to move, another scream reached their ears, followed by a muffled thud.

Then the night erupted with shouts.

_Please read and review ___


	2. Arrivals

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer (sadly).

--

The sun was low in the sky by the time the two riders reached the village. The first rider dismounted and rapped on the gate three times with his sword.

"Open up in the name of Count Gustav Hechlar!"

A full minute passed before a panel cut into the woodwork opened to reveal the gatekeeper. Dark brown eyes met pale blue ones as, a suspicious look on his face; he barked out a reply, "Who demands this?"

"My name is Gerard von Stahl, and this is Rhinehardt Steiner. We are Road Wardens employed by Leopold Steiner, Burgomaster of Mordheim. In his name we demand accommodation for the night," As he spoke the man reached into his saddlebag and produced a roll of parchment which he passed through the opening. "This will prove the truth of my words".

The gatekeeper unfurled the parchment and glanced at its contents. Like most peasants he could not read but the Burgomaster's seal was a familiar sign and the document certainly looked official. Gesturing to his son Michael who had been watching from the doorway of their hut, he fumbled with the bolts and eventually the gates creaked open.

He studied the new arrivals as they entered. The one named Gerard looked in his late twenties. He was of average height and build with sandy coloured hair cropped short in the latest fashion. The second rider was taller and older by at least ten years. His hair and beard were jet black and his left eye was covered by a leather patch. Both men were dressed in worn out travelling clothes and leather jacks. Each wore a wide brimmed hat and carried a short sword at his side, whilst a bow and quiver hung from the saddle of each horse.

"Allright sirs please come in, I meant no offence. I have to question everyone who comes here. There's been talk of dangerous folk about lately".

"Indeed? So you've had other visitors here then?"

"Yes sirs. This is a small village but we get the occasional traveller who wants to stay at the inn. No one with any sense would camp out in the forest at night".

Rhinehardt took a step closer, towering over the gatekeeper, "We've been informed of some bandit activity in this area recently. Tell me, have you seen any suspicious characters here during the last two weeks".

"No sirs," The gatekeeper fidgeted nervously- the Warden's stare was making him feel uncomfortable. "About two weeks back we had a small caravan of travellers, I think maybe... a dozen including two children, but they cleared off the next day. Then we had this woman ride in three days later-didn't like the look of her I might add. Then there wa.."

Gerard interrupted swiftly. "Why didn't you like the look of her?"

The gatekeeper shrugged. "It's rare for anyone to travel alone these days, especially a woman. From her accent I though her from the north and I don't hear anything good about that lot. She's still here if you want to question her. Then there's...the local peddler, he arrived two days ago. And there are those two traders who've been here since last night. Oh yes... and theres this other fellow arrived a couple of hours ago".

"What did he look like?"

"Tall fella, taller than yourself and slim in build. I couldn't see much of him as he kept his face hidden behind a scarf, but I remember his eyes. Strange really but when he looked at me it...it sorta made me feel I wasn't there. Felt like he was staring right through me. He kept his cloak drawn about him but I noticed he wore a sword underneath. I didn't care for the look of him but he paid well."

"What for?"

"Information. He wanted to know who was in the village right now and if anyone else had passed through recently"

"Interesting. And he's at the inn."

"Yes sir, all the travellers are there right now."

The two wardens exchanged glances. Gerard was the first to move away. "I think we might take the time to question some of these people. Can't be too careful after all."

The gatekeeper watched them go before re-fastening the bolts. "Wardens. I'll sleep a little easier tonight at least."

--

Gerard's eyes roved over the village as they approached the inn. The place appeared deserted, save for two children at play outside the nearest hut. A woman, possibly their mother, watched the two wardens warily from the doorway. Beyond her hut Gerard could make out the roofs of a dozen similar sized structures and, in the distance, a large rectangular building which he guessed to be a barn. The huts were small rectangular structures built of wood with thatch roofs and displayed signs of severe weathering.

The inn was larger than the other buildings. Over twice as long and half again as wide, it was two floors high and built into an 'L' shape; fashioned from stone blocks with a thatched roof. The building had a rather neglected look about it with moss covering the lower walls. The door opened as they approached and a short, dark-haired boy darted towards them.

"Kurt sir, I'm the stable boy. May I take your horses, I'll have em groomed and fed well for ya sirs."

Gerard smiled a little at the boy's enthusiasm and handed him the reins. "See you do boy. See that you do."

--

The door was built into the tail-end of the building. It creaked open to reveal a small bar behind which a large, broad-shouldered man whom they guessed to be the inn keeper was busy cleaning out tankards with a cloth. He glanced up as the two men approached.

"Evening sirs. If its accommodation you seek I have some nice sized rooms available. "

Gerard laid a few coins on the bar. "We'll take one room for the two of us. But before then we'd like some information concerning your current guests. I understand there's a few in lodgings right now Mr..?"

"Perkins. Their all here now except the pedlar." The innkeeper gestured further down the down the corridor that formed the longer section of the building. A dozen wooden tables and attendant chairs were scattered about the place, with a set of stairs at the far end leading to the upper floor. A door was located to the left of the stairs, presumably leading to a storage room as Gerard had not noticed any ground floor windows except the two that looked in on the bar.

Gerard turned his gaze over the assembled drinkers.

TBC.


	3. Observations

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop.

FlareX3 and Ser Roderik--thanks for the reviews, all advice is much appreciated and I hope I have managed to work that particular flaw out of this chapter. Apologies for the delay-I hoped to have this chapter ready last night but ran out of time. Ah well.

--

The table nearest to the bar was occupied by three men of varying ages. They wore plain and rather worn clothes and were quietly nursing mugs of beer, doubtless some of the locals out for an evening drink. Two had their backs to the wardens; the third regarded them curiously but averted his eyes as Gerard's gaze settled on him.

The table immediately behind them was occupied by a notably noisier group of four. Two of them were garbed in a similar manner, most likely more locals out for the night. This was hardly surprising, for the inn of any village usually served as a favoured meeting place and provided a means of escape from the dreariness of everyday life. The other two drinkers had a more immaculate appearance and wore notably finer clothes made of deep blue cloth. From their easy manner and fine attire Gerard guessed them to be the traders the gatekeeper had mentioned.

Each man clutched a set of cards to his chest, occasionally pushing a handful of coins towards a growing pile in the centre of the table. Gerard couldn't fail to notice that the traders held a notably larger stash than their opponents and it occurred to him that the downhearted expressions on the faces of the first group might have their origins in this game. Indeed it was not unknown for city traders to put up in villages overnight, rake in a tidy sum and then 'disappear' in the early hours of the dawn. Played carefully it was a tidy way to turn a profit.

One table down and to the left sat a woman with jet black hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Gerard studied her curiously. She was dressed in a dark leather jack and had a hooded grey cloak draped over her shoulders. Her face was finely modelled with high cheekbones, marred slightly by a scar above her right temple about an inch in length. She looked up from the bowl of soup she'd been occupied with and caught him staring at her. Piercing blue eyes met his gaze with such intensity that he felt compelled to look away.

A second glance took in the object on the table next to her plate-it was a single-headed fight axe, about the same length as his sword with a handle wrapped in dark leather. This must be the woman they'd been informed about. He could see what the gatekeeper had meant when he said he hadn't liked the look of her; whilst he knew appearances could be deceptive there was something about this woman that did not seem right. A glance at Rhinehardt confirmed he was thinking along the same lines.

The only other occupant of the room sat two tables away from her and had his chair propped against the wall, angled so as to be facing slightly towards the other drinkers. He was dressed in black leather armour and wore a cloak which looked a though it had been made from the hide of a dragon, its dark green surface arranged into a pattern of overlapping scales. His face was hidden from view by the hood of the cloak which was draped over his head, but Gerard could not shake the feeling that the eyes beneath the hood were currently fixed on him

He tapped Rhinehardt lightly on the arm and whispered "If we play our cards right we might be able to turn their...relaxation to our advantage" He motioned Perkins over. "Two mugs of ale my good man; but nothing too strong mind you, my friend and I have no wish to lose all our money tonight".

"Right you are sirs." The innkeeper produced a pair of worn tankards and swiftly filled them with ale.

Rhinehardt sipped his drink cautiously. "You have a plan?"

"You take the card players, I know you can play a decent game, and see what you can learn. It's possible one of the locals will have seen our man come this way. Leave the other group to me and I'll try and work on the woman if I get an opportunity".

"I had a feeling you were gonna say that".

Gerard grinned. "Just being realistic my friend, when it comes to charming the ladies you've never had much success"

Rhinehardt merely grunted

--

The sun had now vanished beneath the horizon and the only light came from the torches set at intervals around the village and surrounding its stockade. It was simple construction-a twelve foot high wall fashioned from timber and filled with earth, with an eight foot high earthen bank built up behind the inner stockade to reinforce it against heavy projectiles. Up in the gate watch tower Michael glanced around the surrounding area. Despite the dark it was just possible to discern the shadows of the treetops where the forest began.

A shiver ran down his spine. Like all the villagers Michael had long come to regard the forest with a healthy respect. By day whatever lurked within its confines seemed content to remain there but at night, for over a month now, there had been increasingly strange goings on. The sentries had reported seeing strange shapes on the edge of the clearing and when the darkness had retreated they had found evidence of what had looked like claw marks around the base of the stockade. On one occasion these had reached right to the top, apparently whatever had made them had scaled the stockade during the night. However a careful search of the village had revealed nothing that missing and the buildings had displayed no signs of forced entry. It was a complete mystery.

To make matters worse two the villages' limited number of goats had disappeared. They had combed the area thoroughly but turned up nothing suspicious. The only thing out of place had been the discovery of a tunnel about half a mile to the east. It had been freshly dug but closer inspection revealed it to be barely large enough for a man to crawl down. After much deliberation it had been filled in and no one had gone back to it since then.

These developments had seen an increase in the defences around the village. A ditch filled with a double row of sharpened stakes had been dug around the stockade and the sentries had been doubled. He glanced at the man sharing his watch tonight. James was nine years his senior and had seen military service several years ago as a militiaman in the Burgomaster's army. With the new whispers of bandit activity in the area they were both feeling a little apprehensive.

James was the first to break the silence. "Do you think we'll have any trouble?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose it is possible we have brigands in the area, but the defences have been strengthened and we've all been practising our fighting skills. It would take a sizeable band to breach these walls."

"Don't be too sure lad. The stockade may look impressive but we've only 14 able-bodied men and several young boys at the ready. It won't take much for a determined enemy to scale the walls. What's more I don't like the idea of allowing outsiders in here overnight. It would only take a couple of bandits to open the gates for the main group and then there'd be hell to pay."

"But my father says we need the inn, with the failure of the harvest it has become one of our main sources of income. Close it and we could cripple ourselves for the winter."

Michael was silent for a moment, before replying "Sacrifices must sometimes be made young man, if it means greater security."

"Rather big risk to take though." Michael waited for him to continue. When he did not he decided to leave it at that. Things were tense enough already without stirring up an argument. He leant against his spear and returned his gaze to the outline of the woods.

--

The moon shone down brightly, for a moment illuminating a figure on the edge of the forest. Dark and unmoving, it could easily have been mistaken for a large bush. Its eyes roved across the ramparts before coming to rest on the two figures in the watchtower. Beneath the figure's dark robe its teeth barred into an evil grin before it slowly turned and melted away into the undergrowth.

TBC


	4. The Search Begins

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Warhammer or Games workshop.

--

Rhinhardt sat across from the traders, his purse close to hand and his eyes fixed firmly his opponents. To his left the last villager left in the game took a deep breath before placing his cards face up before him. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

"Full House." The trader reached out and pulled the money towards him. "Sorry mate, it looks like luck smiles on me tonight. Care to bet again?"

"Same stakes?" There was a hint of uncertainty in the man's voice.

"As you wish."

"Fair enough, I'll raise you ten". Rhinehardt reached into his purse and placed the money in the centre. The trader added his share from his own pile and his companion followed suit.

The villager reached into his own purse and produced an identical sum, hesitated for an instant, then added it to the pile. His companion had quit the game several turns previously with an ill-concealed curse. Rhinehardt wasn't surprised; ultimately the traders were going to be the only victors in this game. Almost imperceptibly he brushed a finger over the top left corner of a card, feeling the slight crease in the cardboard. A subtle trick, something one wouldn't notice unless you knew what to look for. His suspicions of cheating had been confirmed early in the game after the first trader, a thin middle aged man with shoulder-length brown hair, sprung his carefully laid trap and whisked away the entire pile.

A smile flickered across Rhinehardt's lips. It would be a joke to expose these card-sharks and watch the villagers' reactions-doubtless the traders would furnish them with information they didn't even know in exchange for protection! It would be equally easy to perform some slight-of-hand of his own, namely when his turn to deal came, thus earning himself a tidy profit. These men were good but they still had much to learn about fixing games.

For a moment he entertained the thought, then remembered his mission and pushed it aside. The Burgomaster would meet any expenses incurred and it would be easier to extract information in a relaxed atmosphere.

"So tell me, have you been here long?"

--

At the next table Gerard feigned taking a long sip from his tankard. "Very interesting, please continue sir"

"Well, I pulled off a careful bluff, feigned like I had a full house you know," Alec leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms lazily. "And they fell for it. Both of em folded and I raked in the entire jackpot".

"What happened then?"

"And then they cleared off, whole lot of em left the next morning. God that was a fine night to be sure!"

"And you say all these travellers went off, including this fellow named Kurzwiel?"

"Far as I know mate, for sure I haven't seen him since. Times being what they are I reckon they must have felt there was safety in numbers on the road."

The man next to Alec, a short man of around forty, studied Gerard curiously. "Why so interested anyway? Most travellers we get through here aren't concerned with those who came before them".

"I'm a servant of Mordheim my good man. It is my duty to know who passes through this area and for what purpose". He paused, wondering how much he should risk revealing. "Furthermore, the Burgomaster has an interest in this man, needs to see him as soon as possible".

The man nodded. "I see. Well I'm afraid we haven't seen him since then so I think you can assume he went with those travellers".

"Did they say where they were headed?"

"Not towards Mordheim I'm afraid"

--

An hour later found the two wardens sitting at another table, each nursing a tankard and an expression of disappointment. While they had managed to glean some information it appeared to be of limited value. The other drinkers; with the exception of the cloaked man, the short villager Gerard had questioned and Perkins the innkeeper; had all quit the tavern.

"So I gather they didn't have much to say?" Gerard leaned back in his chair.

Rhinehardt sighed wearily. "Those two fops don't know anything, of that I'm certain. They arrived when the gatekeeper said and as far as I can glean neither one has been here before. Just dropped in to scam the locals shall we say."

"Ah, that old game. Still I gather your evening wasn't a total loss".

Rhinehardt shrugged, "A little extra cash never hurt anyone my friend. You just have to know how to handle these people. Don't suppose you had better luck?"

"Nothing really. Get some liqueur into that lot and they become pretty talkative. Seems he was here for three days, and then he cleared out with that caravan people keep mentioning. No one's seen him since".

"You believe them?"

"They seem genuine, but one fellow seemed very interested when I mentioned our man's name. He was relaxed till then, but closed off after that and I couldn't get any more out of him".

Rhinehardt looked at him with new interest, "Which one?"

"The one leaving," Gerard gestured over his shoulder. "Don't let him know you're watching."

Slowly, discretely, Rhinehardt turned his gaze towards the retreating figure. The man was short, about five foot seven, and broadly built. His short brown hair was greying at the temples and the left side of his face bore an ugly scar running from ear to chin. His stride was fairly short and he displayed a slight limp, favouring his left leg.

"What's his name?"

"Krueger. Seems he's a hired labourer. Arrived here one year back and helps with the harvests."

"You think we should stay a little longer?"

Gerard nodded slowly "I think another day might be worth our while. See if we can learn any more. "

"What about that pedlar?"

Gerard shook his head, "He knows nothing, no interest in anyone he can't peddle something to, tried to sell me a couple of swords just now. The finest metal worker in Talabheim he said'.

"I thought he was local".

"He is. Just exaggerating the facts, it's what all salesmen do".

The two men sat in silence for a few moments before Rhinehardt spoke again.

"You really think he' decided to run for it. I mean, from what we were told he is a trusted servant of the Burgomaster, and he volunteered for the mission so it hardly seems he'd cut and run so close to home".

"True," Gerard sipped his tankard again. "But we don't know for sure. It's always possible he decided to keep the package himself. If it is valuable the temptation may have proved too much. And then there's the chance he had a good reason to disappear like this, remember the Burgomaster did say he thought others may have learnt about the...mission".

"Wish he'd told us more about this. I feel like we're groping around in the dark without knowing what we're looking for."

"I know what you mean, but he didn't-we'll just have to make do with what we've got. Mind you, we'll have to be a little more careful." He noticed Rhinehardt's puzzled expression. "We have some competition".

--

_Gerard approached the woman's table. "Mind if I join you?"_

_She studied him for a moment before returning to her drink. "As you wish."_

_Gerard pulled up a chair and seated himself opposite and slightly to the left of her, careful to avoid taking a confrontational position. A full minute passed in silence. Felling a little uncomfortable, he attempted to open the conversation. "So, been down her long?"_

"_No, but I expect the gatekeeper told you as much"._

"_I'm sorry?"_

"_I asked him the same question when I arrived here. If you're smart you'd have done the same. And you're wasting your time; your quarry won't be found here"._

"_What do mean miss, how would you...?" He studied her face, her appearance finally triggering a memory."Oh, I thought you looked familiar". Now that he put his mind to it, he remembered where he had seen her._

_That day the Burgomaster had summoned the two of them to his office they had not been the only visitors. They had been obliged to wait for over half an hour before he would see them. On their way to his office they had passed two people. One had been a servant dressed in the livery of the city, the other an attractive woman with dark hair in a grey dress-a woman he now realised matched the description of the one now sitting opposite him._

"_Yes I remember you now miss...?"_

"_Grenfell, Katarina Grenfell; and no I don't expect you would. It's surprising what a dress and some makeup can accomplish these days". _

_Gerard nodded slowly, "I suppose so. Mind if I ask what brings you here"._

"_The same as you I suspect, if the Burgomaster has charged you with the same task"._

"_So you're one of his officials?" Gerard could not quite hide the scepticism in his voice. He hoped she wouldn't notice-no such luck._

"_Not exactly, let us just say we have the same goal in mind"._

"_Meaning he's paying you to do our work."_

"_Don't look surprised warden. Officials have more than one type of...servant, we handle the jobs the law doesn't like to associate itself with." _

"_Indeed. And considering you've been here three days I don't suppose you've had any luck "._

"_No. I know the man was here, but he left some two weeks back. I've been asking around but no one knows anything"._

"_Mind if I ask why your still here then?"_

_She raised one shoulder in a shrug. "Replenishing supplies. I was planning to clear off within a day or two"._

_Gerard asked a few more questions but she refused to be drawn. Eventually he gave up and excused himself. As he left she called after him._

"_Warden; we may be on the same side but I warn you, do not interfere with my mission, I will not take kindly to that"._

_Gerard gave no sign he'd heard her._

--

"Could she be trouble?"

"Possibly, she certainly has a cold enough demeanour. But as she said, we have the same goal in mind. We might be able to turn that to our advantage."

"She may be thinking the same thing Gerard."

"As I said, we need to be careful."

"What about our friend back there?"

"One with the cloak? No good, I tried talking to him when he came to the bar but he wasn't interested. Strange fellow, never takes his hood down and rarely talks. I'd swear he's still on the same drink."

"Which would indicate he's not here to drink or socialise?"

"Yes, and that being the case I think we should try questioning him again tomorrow." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the stranger drained his tankard, got up and silently exited up the stairs.

Rhinehardt watched him go. "I agree."

TBC


	5. Movements in the Night

Right--enough talk, I think it's time to add a bit of tension.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop.

--

It was almost midnight when the two retired to their rooms. Once inside Gerard set the lantern on the table and fastened the bedroom lock. It did not seem particularly solid so he took a chair and wedged it under the handle. This done he took a knife from his belt a cut a few strands of his hair, carefully fixing several into the door frame. If anyone entered the room in his absence he would know about it.

This done he unrolled his saddle bag, removed his cloak and pulled a dark hood like ornament over his head. It was small sack with holes cut for the eyes and mouth, useful for night time camouflage. After fastening this tightly he took up his sword and strapped it across his back. After fixing a dagger to his belt he doused the light and made his way to the window, unfastened the shutter and eased it open. Scanning the darkness, he listened out for any unusual sounds. After two minutes he decided the coast was clear and carefully edged out over the sill.

For a moment his foot scraped over the stone surface and he held his breath. Then his right boot found purchase in a gap between the stones and he breathed out slowly. He eased the window closed, leaving a tiny gap to re-enter by. Slowly, and with great care, Gerard descended the wall. He dropped the last few feet, rolling as he hit the ground and dropping into a crouch. His hand flew to his dagger as he dropped back against the wall. Again he listened for any sound that would betray another's presence. When none came he darted away in the direction of the nearest house moving quickly, pausing occasionally to listen out.

The moon Mannslieb was waxing tonight and cast a pale light over the scene, illuminating the buildings around him. Its twin Morslieb was a forbidding shade of red to its left. Upon reaching the first house he crouched low and carefully inched around the building, alert for any signs of life.

He wasn't sure what he was looking, perhaps some sign of late night travellers. He and Rhinehardt had debated their mission and had decided that two possible outcomes must have taken place. Kurzwiel had left with the caravan, of this they were certain. After this he would either have continued with them before heading his own way, or it was possible he had doubled back and was hiding in the local area.

The second option seemed less likely but they had agreed it would be better to make sure before leaving. Krueger's behaviour puzzled them, as did Katarina Grenfell. If she was looking for Kurzwiel then why was she still in the village after three days? Surely her enquiries would have revealed his departure by now? Her explanation about restocking supplies could be genuine, and yet somehow he did not buy it. He sighed, knowing that deep down he was hoping Kurzwiel was still here. If he had not returned then tracing him would be difficult at best, for they had no idea in which direction he had left once out of sight of the village. And if he was still here then someone must be hiding him. If so they were more likely to be abroad at night, for in small village like this strangers seldom went unnoticed.

He pushed these thoughts aside, knowing he would need to keep a clear head tonight.

--

Up in the gate watch tower, Michael cocked his ear. It may have been the wind but he could have sworn that, just for an instant, there had been another sound-a sound that did not belong here. He turned to James. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I don't know, it sounded almost like a scratching noise."

James cocked his head and listened intently, trying to discern any unfamiliar noises above the gentle rustling of the trees and the whistling of the wind. He shook his head. "Nothing. You must have imagined things kid. I've seen this before, it's all these strange new occurrences-they've got us all on edge."

Michael nodded. It was true that the locals had all been on edge lately. "I suppose you're right". He returned his gaze to the tree-line again and tried to relax. But even so he could not shake the feeling that something was amiss.

--

Gerard had completed his circuit of most of the houses and had found no trace of any late night travellers. Not that he had expected anything else-no chance of searching these houses without an official warrant, for the powers of the road warden did not extend beyond his official duties as a patrolman. He had checked a nearby pen where the goats were herded, but again had found nothing conclusive. However these were not his main targets. Darting away from the shadow of the house, he headed for the barn.

--

The structure loomed out of the darkness ahead of him. Just like the inn it was built of stone with a thatched roof and stood two stories high. He studied it carefully but found no signs of life. Creeping up to the wall and edging round to the doorway, he peered over the rim of the door. Nothing.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a handful of dried twigs and scattered them across the entrance. Swiftly unfastening the latch, Gerard edged the door open and slipped inside. The interior was dark, lit only by the faint moonlight filtering through various openings. It smelt of hay and of wheat brought in for the upcoming winter. Mixed with that was the scent of livestock, of horse and cow, one of which whinnied nervously upon sensing his presence. He flattened himself against the wall as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the new darkness. For the first time he cursed his negligence in failing to bring a torch to light the way. Even a candle would have sufficed.

Edging forward, he slipped into a nearby stall and cautiously began his search.

--

Outside the barn a figure detached itself from the shadow of a house and began creeping towards the building. Clad in dark clothes and carrying a large object, it darted the last few feet and made for the doorway, glancing about furtively as though fearful of detection. It barely paused as its foot snapped a twig. Opening the door, it slipped inside.

As it vanished from sight two more shapes left the shadow of the same house. Moving with exceptional stealth they too made for the barn. Dividing before they reached it, one took up position outside the entrance and the second began to climb the wall, making for the window at the top.

TBC

.


	6. Target Sighted!

Hello everybody-bet you all though I'd given up. Well, not a chance. Just been on holiday and have only recently worked up the energy to resume writing. Still, I hope you'll all agree that this will prove worth the wait 

--

Gerard completed his search of the left stalls quickly, trying to cause as little disturbance as possible from the animals within. Finding nothing he edged towards the back of the barn, biting back a curse as his foot struck something heavy. Closer inspection revealed the object to be the back end of a plough-of course the villagers would store everything in here.

From the dim moonlight he could make out a small cart at the back. As he crept forwards he was startled by a sharp noise from overhead. He froze, hand resting on dagger. He heard it again, the steady pitter-patter of footfalls on wood. Listening carefully he pinpointed their position, just above him in the rafters!

Ducking beside the cart, he reached behind his back and withdrew a small object. Fumbling briefly, he folded out two metal arms and fastened a string across the beam. This done he reached back again and produced a small bolt, which he fitted into the slot. He sighted the crossbow and aimed it at a small opening in the roof, one that must lead to the second storey of the barn.

Gerard had taken this weapon from the corpse of an outlaw chieftain three months previously and had not regretted it. About the same size as a pistol, the crossbow was light enough to be used in one hand and could fire an iron tipped bolt up to a hundred yards. At close range it had proved powerful enough to pierce most armour and had already proved its worth in close-quarter fighting.

The footsteps edged closer to the opening. His finger slipped onto the trigger, but applied no pressure. Got to get a look first!

A dark blur flashed down from the opening, illuminated briefly in the moonlight, before gliding back to the ceiling. Startled, Gerard almost pulled the trigger. Then the soft hooting reached his ears. The owl made a few sweeps, and then finally swept low and glided noiselessly out of the door.

Gerard sighed with relief, removing his finder from the trigger. _Just an owl!_

He tensed again when another figure was suddenly silhouetted in the doorway. His finger slipped back onto the trigger and he prepared to fire if detected. He aimed low, hoping for a wounding shot. Fortunately he was hidden behind the cart and his presence went unnoticed.

The newcomer moved towards the centre, halting beside a supporting pillar. It rapped on the wood three times, paused then repeated the action. For a moment all was quiet. Then there came sounds of movement from the floor above. Faint sounds, like the fall of footsteps, were followed by the louder groaning sound of something heavy being moved. As he watched, a ladder was slowly lowered into position. Another moment passed, and then a second figure began its descent.

"Thank Sigmar, I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"Sorry, there are people nosing around. I had to take extra care I wasn't followed here." Although Gerard could not see the man's feature's he recognised the voice-Krueger!

--

Rhinehardt shifted uncomfortably on his bed and wished he had thought to check the mattress before the bar had closed. The straw that served as padding had been worn down by previous occupants and now the wooden framework was playing hell with his spine. His general restlessness did not help either. Although he had agreed that Gerard's greater tracking skills meant he would be more likely to succeed on tonight's escapade he was still uncomfortable with sitting on the sidelines doing nothing.

Clambering off the bed, Rhinehardt dressed hastily and picked up his dagger. A man of action by nature, he favoured tackling problems head-on and if he could not help his comrade on the outside, he could at least probe the other guests for more information. Exiting the room, he wedged two of his hairs between door and frame and turned the lock.

He paused and took in the layout of the corridor, unsure of where to begin. Immediately opposite his door, on the other side of the corridor, were two sets of stairs. One set led back down to the bar and the second led up to what he assumed was the attic. To his left were two doors-the left one led to a room occupied by the stable-boy and another young man who worked behind the bar; the right one he knew to be occupied by a young woman who worked as a maid.

Gerard's room was next to his own, the one opposite that was occupied by the pedlar and the room next to Gerard's was occupied by the rider whom the gatekeeper had warned them about. Of the remaining rooms he did not know, not that it mattered right now. Rhinehardt was keen to question the cloaked rider further, if only to discover his reasons for being here. The locals, however, would probably have more relevant information.

--

The maid answered her door after a slight delay. She was of average height, with long brown hair and a well rounded appearance typical of a woman who had grown up in a harsh environment. She held a lit candle and wore a thick woollen night dress. Standing in the doorway, she regarded him uncertainly.

"Can I help you sir?"

Rhinehardt nodded. "I apologise if I woke you Miss..?"

"Mary, sir"

"Mary. My name is Rhinehardt Steiner and I am a road warden employed by the city of Mordheim. May I speak with you for a moment?" She made to step outside the door, but he forestalled her. "I mean in your room miss. There are some questions I must ask you in private".

"What about sir?"

"I am looking for someone who passed through this village two weeks ago".

"I'm afraid this is not a good time".

"I must insist miss". He made no move to block the doorway-she had not refused him entry yet. For a moment it seemed she was about to do just that, then a man's voice called from somewhere beyond the door.

"Let him in Mary, I think I know what he wants".

She hesitated briefly, then stepped back to allow him through, closing the door behind him. Rhinehardt scanned his immediate surroundings. The room was slightly smaller than his and painted white. A table, chair, wardrobe and bed made up the entire contents of the room, along with a couple of coats hanging up behind the door.

The voice belonged to a young, well-built man with close-cropped sandy coloured hair whom he recognised as Perkins, the bar worker he had see earlier that evening. The young man was naked save a pair of drawstring trousers. This, coupled with the current state of the bedding, explained the maid's earlier reluctance to let him in, for young un-married people cavorting under the same roof was not looked on favourably in any society. He apologised.

"Don't worry about it, though we would be grateful if wouldn't make this matter public knowledge" Perkins shifted on the bed to make room for Mary whilst Rhinehardt took the chair. An uneasy silence followed. Perkins was the first to speak. "You said you wanted to ask us some questions, I presume they relate to that man you were asking after earlier tonight?"

Aware he had lost the initiative, Rhinehardt nodded. "He is called Kurzwiel and I have been sent to bring him in by the Burgomaster".

"Mind if I ask what he has done?"

"Theft, an object of great value to the Burgomaster. It is important that I apprehend this man as soon as possible". He gave them a brief description of what he had learnt so far, careful to keep details to a minimum. "If you have any information you think could be relevant I would be obliged if you would tell me now".

Perkins nodded slowly. "I know the man you mean. He came here about fifteen...no sixteen days back. I don't know where he was planning to go, but I haven't seen him for nearly two weeks".

"Some of the locals seem to think he left with that group of travellers who were her a fortnight ago".

Perkins gave Mary questioning look. "Did he say anything about that?"

"No, I did overhear him asking their leader if he could travel with them to Mordheim, but it was a busy night and I didn't have time to listen in further". She flushed slightly. "Not that I make a habit of eavesdropping sir".

Rhinehardt almost smiled "I'm glad you did. And you say you haven't seen him since?"

"Perkins nodded "That is correct. Also, I saw that group off when they left and I could swear he wasn't with them".

"How sure are you about that?"

"As sure as I can be."

--

Rhinehardt closed the door behind him and started down the corridor for the other rooms. He now knew that Kurzwiel had not left with the travellers, which made it more likely that he was still hiding in the village. Beyond that the young couple had not been able to tell him anything else save confirming the gate-keeper's information on those who had arrived in the village. As to the travellers themselves, well they seemed to have been nothing special, just a small band of gypsies who occasionally came to stay at the village and enjoy themselves at the inn.

Perkins had advised him to speak to a man named Bertholdt who lived at the far end of the village. Bertholdt was a blacksmith and also served as the village constable. He rarely came to the tavern, but Perkins described him as a sharp man who seemed to know everything that went on within the village.

"If anyone can tell you more about your target, I'm sure he can."

They had also confirmed that Katarina Grenfell had already questioned them on this matter, which could explain why she was still here. He could guess why she had not told Gerard this information-should the road wardens apprehend Kurzwiel before her then she would be unable to claim the reward.

He stopped outside the cloaked rider's door and rapped sharply on the woodwork. He waited a few moments and, when there was no response, repeated the action a little more forcefully. Again there was no reply. He leaned in against the door frame and was able to make out a faint glow, indicating there was a light on inside. He knocked again, and again he received no response. The occupant could have fallen asleep, or might simply be ignoring him. He considered shouting, but decided against it. There was no point in causing a scene and he wanted to be able to question the other lodgers before morning.

The next door down was answered by Katarina.

"Sorry to bother you Miss Grenfell, but I would like a word."

She regarded him warily, before stepping aside. "If you must."

--

"Is that woman still looking for me?"

Kurzwiel nodded affirmation. "I'm afraid so, and she's no longer the only one. A couple of road wardens turned up this morning. They've been asking about you and I think they work for the Burgomaster."

"Wardens!" For an instant a note of fear entered the newcomer's voice. "Are they still here?"

"Yes, they are staying at the inn and I'm afraid it looked like they plan to stick around. Some of the locals have mentioned you're arrival and no one seems to remember you leaving here."

"I see. Have there been any other arrivals?"

"Yes, another rider came in this morning but I don't know what he wants, he kept to himself in the bar and as far as I know has not left the inn."

"Hmm, then we must move fast. These people now know I was here and it's getting too dangerous to stay longer. I must be away within the next few days or they are sure to find me. Can I still count on your help?"

"Of course you can! Sigmar knows you've asked me that often enough. But I wish you would tell me what sort of trouble you're in cousin. I promised to help you and I will but I don't like playing these games with the authorities."

The newcomer reached over and clasped his shoulder. "I know, and I'm sorry I dragged you into this. But I cannot tell you of my troubles, for your own safety as much as anything. Suffice to say it is vital I reach my destination. What I carry is very dangerous and it must not fall into the wrong hands. If the Burgomaster should get hold of it I do not like to think what may happen."

"It's really that dangerous?"

"Yes." The two men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally the newcomer spoke. "Get the horses ready tomorrow cousin, if all goes well then I'll make a try for it tomorrow night".

"Very well." Krueger turned for the doorway. "Come on, I suggest we hide you elsewhere for tomorrow. This barn is too obvious a hiding place."

Gerard had heard enough, he was now certain of the newcomer's identity. Trailing the pair in the dark alone was too risky and he had no intention of allowing his target to elude him. He rose from his hiding place and advanced, keeping the crossbow trained on his chosen target.

"Neither of you will go anywhere. Don't move Kurzwiel! I assure you I can easily hit you even in this light. Stay where I can see you Krueger, or you _cousin_ gets a bolt through the belly!"

Krueger hissed as he turned. "How did you..?"

"I had my suspicions about you from the start. Call it investigator's intuition. As for you!" So saying he turned to Kurzwiel. "You and I are taking a trip to the inn. You've given us the merry run around but now it's time to end this."

"You're...one of the road wardens right? Look please listen to me, you can't take me back to Mordheim. I don't know what you've been told but..."

Gerard cut him off. "Save you pleas. I know enough and I intend to see you answer for your crimes. That trinket you carry will be returned to its rightful owner."

"It's rightful..! Look your wrong!" Now there was a note of desperation in Kurzwiel's tone. "You don't know what you're dealing with here. If this falls into the wrong hands it could be catastrophic. Please you have to listen to me! Your master is not the rightful owner of this and his reasons for wanting it are far from noble. Does that count for nothing? Will you at least hear me out?"

"I am a soldier Kurzwiel. I have my orders and that is enough. You are coming with me now. Once we reach the inn I may hear what you have to say-I make no promises. Now march!"

"But..."

"I said march, or perhaps you would like an incentive?" Saying this he levelled the crossbow at Krueger and drew his dagger.

"Wait, all right. I'll come just...take it easy".

Marching the two in front of him, Gerard advanced forward. He kept the crossbow fixed on Kurzwiel and kept his dagger at the ready. With odds of two to one he could take no chances.

He had reached the ladder when it happened. He had passed the opening when his attention was diverted by a sudden noise. As he glanced upwards something heavy struck him on the head. He staggered, the crossbow going off in his hand, its bolt thudding harmlessly into the wall. Before he knew it something landed on his shoulders and sent him sprawling. He lashed out with the dagger, feeling the soft scrape of steel slicing cloth and flesh.

Then footsteps reached his ears. Something seized his wrist and the dagger was wrenched from his grasp. He kicked out desperately but failed to score a hit. Something struck him again on the head and he fell back. As his grip on consciousness faded he just discerned a voice from faraway.

"_Quickly, finish it!"_

Then darkness took him.

TBC


	7. Blood is Spilt

Disclaimer-I do not own the Warhammer world (just as well really). All reviews are greatly appreciated.

--

The thunder of hooves reached Martin's ears long before the riders were visible. It began as a distant rumble, likened by some to the rumbling that heralds the approach of a storm, growing louder as the cause of the noise approached.

The two men were riding hard, bent double in the saddle and spurring their horses to the limits of endurance. Both men were clad in hooded cloaks. One rode slightly ahead, glancing back occasionally at his companion who lagged behind. Closer inspection revealed that the second rider held another, smaller figure clasped tightly to his chest.

The lead rider, a man by the name of Felix, cursed their predicament. It had been foolish to bring the child this far. They should have doubled back to the farmstead as he had suggested and but for the insistence of his companion he would have done just that. But Richard had insisted on continuing, insisting he must carry news to his village. After what he had witnessed three days back Felix had simply been too scared to continue his journey alone. Then, just as they had set up camp tonight...had it not been for the disturbance of a nesting partridge they might not have spotted the danger till it was too late.

Through a gap in the trees he discerned the glow of a torch. That must be the village watchtower-Richard had been very specific in his description. "If anything happens to me then get to the village and tell my father the gatekeeper what has happened. They must be warned!"

For an instant he felt his fear ease. Just a few more minutes and they would be safe.

They were approaching the clearing when the trap was sprung. Without warning the darkness came alive. Several figures leapt into their path, barely two meters distant. They shrieked and gibbered, three waving torches whilst the rest ran forward. In the moonlight Felix saw several were carrying long weapons with gleaming points-spears!

Felix's horse, alarmed at the noise, attempted to pull up short. Cursing he dug his spurs in, willing the beast to continue, its momentum their only hope of escape. It was no use. The lead figure thrust its weapon into the horse's chest. Screaming with pain the beast toppled to the earth, pinning Felix's leg beneath it. He screamed as he felt the bone snap.

Through a haze of pain Felix was able to make out the features of his attacker. It was bipedal, of that there was no doubt. But then, to his horror, he discerned the elongated snout and prominent horns that sprouted from his head, heard the sound of cloven hooves stomping the earth beside him.

"No!"

That was the last word he ever uttered as the attackers closed in.

Seeing him go down Richard had only seconds to act. Digging his spurs in and tightening his grip on the child he urged the beast towards his fallen comrade. He could not help, there were too many attackers. But he gambled they would expect him to ride clear of the fray, not directly for it.

It paid off. Of the four that had attacked Felix only one was unoccupied. It seemed too startled, reacting too late. The horse ploughed into it with such force the figure was lifted from its feet and sent tumbling aside. Richard didn't look back. He tugged the reins left, trying to evade the torchbearers. They stayed with him, barring his path. His horse reared, its hooves striking one in the face. The other two leapt at him. Hands clasped his cloak, attempting to pull him from his seat. He kicked out, felt his foot strike something hard. Then his horse plunged forward and he was pulled clear.

As he cleared the last figure something flickered in the corner of his eye. Suddenly he felt a screaming pain in left thigh. He clung to the reins grimly, fighting the urge to scream. Something whistled past his head. He hunched over further and rode for the village.

--

It had not taken long to subdue Gerard. Once the warden was disarmed Kurzwiel quickly took charge, giving orders to bind the man and place him at the back of the barn behind some tools, reducing the risk of someone stumbling across him. This did not sit well with the third member of the group, the man who had dropped out of the loft onto Gerard's back. "Are you sure about this?"

Kurzwiel nodded. "Yes Kurt. He may be working for the Burgomaster but I doubt he knows the truth of the matter. I will not have someone killed in cold blood to keep us safe, we will not stoop that low."

"You really think he will show any mercy?"

"That is not important. What is important is what to do next. It will not be long before his companion comes looking for him and it will not take long to discover him. We must leave tonight."

Krueger protested. "But the horses are not ready. And there is no chance of us leaving until dawn; the gates will not open until then".

"I know cousin, but we daren't risk staying. Kurt and I will leave tonight. We may be able to get transport from that farmstead you mentioned. I recommend you come with us, for it will not be safe for you now it is known you have aided us."

Krueger sighed wearily. "I suppose I must, but I have a better idea. You two leave tonight and I will get the horses ready. Fist light is not far away and once the gates are open I can ride out and meet you further out with the supplies. Agreed?"

"Agreed" Kurzwiel removed the ladder and placed it against the wall. "We had best move now".

--

"Who goes there?" Michael's challenge pierced the night as Richard approached the gate.

The rider pulled his horse up short. "It's me, Richard. Quick open the gate, I'm being attacked!"

Recognising his brother's voice, Michael had sufficient presence of mind to take him at his word. Seizing the wooden baton he began to strike the tin circle that hung from the roof of the tower. "Father, open the gate! Richard's back and he's under attack!"

"Hold it there!" James laid a restraining hand on his arm and leant over the wall. "You know the rules. Give us the password now!"

"Wyrm's Tongue!" The panic in Richard's voice was now unmistakeable. "Please hurry!" Even as he spoke James heard the soft thud of something hard striking the gate. Notching an arrow to his bow, he squinted into the darkness for a target. "Get the gate open!"

Below them came the squeak of bolts being pulled back, then the creak as one gate swung back on its hinges. Richard spurred his horse inside. Behind him the gatekeeper slammed the gate shut and refastened the bolts. From beyond the clearing there came an angry bellow as the pursuers realised they had lost their quarry.

Throughout this Michael continued to beat the gong, its great clang ringing out across the village, stirring the occupants to action as they scrambled to obey the call to arms.

--

Krueger peered through the doorway, listening for any sign of movement. Satisfied the coast was clear he exited the barn, motioning the others to follow him.

They were scarcely clear of the door when it happened. As the last person left a shape detached itself from the stonework above the door. Unnoticed till then, it dropped down without a sound. Reaching into the folds of its robes it produced a wickedly curved blade. Rolling as it hit the earth; the figure was on its feet and had thrust the blade through Karl's back before anyone knew what was happening.

Karl's gasp of shock and pain alerted his comrades. Kurzwiel whipped round as the figure leapt for him. Its blade flashed in the moonlight and had he not been holding the warden's sword it would have ended there. Re-acting on instinct he lifted the sword to parry the blow. His assailant's blade bit into the wood of the scabbard, halting inches from his neck. The attacker continued the lunge, striking his chest with its shoulder. The momentum knocked him to the ground.

Krueger came to his rescue. Drawing his dagger the villager hurled himself at the assailant. Both fighters went down and rolled over, each fighting to sink his blade into the other's flesh.

Kurzwiel leapt to his feet and drew his sword. He had hardly taken one step when pain flared through his right arm. His left hand moved to the point of pain and his fingers grazed over something sharp. Glancing around he was in time to see another dark shape leap from the wall, rolling to within feet of him. Gripping his blade in both hands he charged.

The newcomer parried his strike and counter-attacked swiftly. The blade passed his defences, being deflected by his chain-mail shirt. Then he was beset with a flurry of blows that forced him onto the defensive. His new assailant was shorter than him, but moved with speed and skill, its blade flashing so fast that Kurzwiel had no chance to counter-attack. To make matters worse each blow was causing his sword-arm to throb painfully.

To his right he heard Krueger scream. Distracted momentarily, his foot caught on a stone and he lost his balance. His opponent struck, the force of the blow knocking the sword from his grasp. He hit the ground hard and his enemy loomed above him, blade held high.

There was a flash. The second attacker froze. A short gasp escaped its lips and it fell backwards, its sword falling from its hand as it hit the ground. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Glancing back he made out another figure clad in black approaching at speed, the light of the moon Mannslieb gleaming off the curved blade in its hand.

The first attacker was advancing now. Reaching into its robe it withdrew a pair of blades. Its left arm rose and fell. The projectiles flashed through the night. The clang of metal on metal rang out as the newcomer reacted. Sword a blur, it nimbly deflected both missiles, sprinting past Kurzwiel and heading for his assailant.

Their blades met with a clang. The newcomer did not stop. Pressing down on his foe's blade he leapt upwards to summersault over the other's head. Kurzwiel watched in disbelief as he seemed to twist in mi-air, coming down facing his enemy's back. Ducking the attacker's desperate swipe he swept his own sword across his enemy's gut. His second strike sliced the other's throat, cutting off its feral scream.

--

When Moon Sword looked up Kurzwiel was already running for the shelter of the houses. He made to give chase, then ducked and rolled sideways, hearing the thud of projectiles slamming into the ground around him. Rolling to his feet he lifted his sword in time to deflect another projectile. A second flashed past his sword, bouncing off the armour beneath his coat.

Moon Sword darted for the barn door as more projectiles struck the earth and stonework. He ducked through the doorway and rolled to his left, coming to rest in a fighting crouch. For an instant he was still. Satisfied there was no one else present he flattened himself against the wall.

From outside he heard a groan of pain. Then the sound of soft footsteps reached his ears and the groan was silenced. He risked a glance, ducking back when something struck the stonework inches from his face. _Damit! Trapped!_

Then new sounds reached his ears-raised voices and the pounding of feet. He chanced another glance and spotted the gleam of approaching torches. The villagers!

Given the circumstances he was glad of their arrival, but had no wish to be seen. Scanning the barn he made out the opening in the roof. No time to search for a ladder. Sheathing his sword he ran to the opening. Vaulting upwards, he seized the rim with both hands and hauled himself up, cursing as he almost lost his grip on the straw-strewn floor.

Once up Moon Sword opened his palm and muttered an incantation. A pale flame flared into life, casting flickering shadows over the roof space. The space was stacked with hay and sacks filled with various crops, doubtless brought in for the upcoming winter. By the light of the flame he discerned a set of wooden shutters at the front of the building. No chance of getting out there without being seen. Turning his gaze to the back of the barn he made out a smaller shutter in the far wall.

That was his best chance.

Extinguishing the flame he clambered over the hay towards the shutters. Feeling his way in the dark, he managed to unfasten the bolts and push the shutter back. Then slowly, carefully, he edged himself out through the opening.

Thankfully the barn was built in the old style. Its worn stonework offered plenty of foot and hand holds and he was able to climb down without too much difficulty. Dropping the last few feet, he made for the shadow of the stockade, seeking a roundabout route to take him clear of any villagers.

Then he heard the sound of the gong.

TBC.


	8. A Pact is Struck

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer. And as usual please read and review.

--

"So tell me warden, what do you want to know?" Katarina regarded him coldly, arms folded neatly across her chest.

Rhinehardt leant back against the wall, trying the keep his stance neutral. "What I would like to know Miss Grenfell is whatever you can tell me about our quarry."

"I have already told your friend everything I know. I have made enquiries these last three days and as far as I can ascertain this Kurzwiel is no longer here. I am afraid you must search elsewhere."

"Your story is certainly plausible but it has one flaw-if he is not here then why are you? It could not have taken you three days to discover this and I cannot believe you did not know there would be other's hunting him. If you are after his bounty as I suspect then you would surely be in pursuit by now, to claim the bounty before someone else."

"Despite what you may think it is not easy to gather information discretely. I was planning to move out shortly but I felt it better to rest and re-supply myself. I'm sure you can appreciate that, seeing as for all we know he may be hiding in the forest".

Rhinehardt shook his head. "I must really look stupid if you think I'll buy that. My gut tells me you know more than you're letting on Miss Grenfell and I tell you now if I suspect you're obstructing our investigation I will have you arrested. Somehow I doubt you'll be able to do much locked up."

Her gaze narrowed dangerously. "Be careful warden, I do not take kindly to threats. And I I'll remind you that the Burgomaster hired me. I doubt he'll be pleased to learn of this."

"No more than he will when he learns that you obstructed us. You forget that my friend and I are paid soldiers, not bounty hunters. Worst comes to worst I think I have the edge o you."

She shrugged. "If you think that then you don't know him as well as I do."

They stood glaring at one another in silence, both determined not to be the first to break eye contact. Rhinehardt could see what Gerard had meant about her eyes. Although she was certainly pleasant to look at, even in this bedraggled state, there was something about her piercing gaze that made him uncomfortable, almost as though she were staring right through him.

Rhinehardt realised this was getting him nowhere; he needed to try a different approach. Though he disliked the use of bounty hunters in general he was no fool. He had been considering this for most of the night and decided it was worth a shot. He pushed himself clear of the wall.

"Look Miss Grenfell I did not come here to argue with you."

"Oh really" Her tone held no warmth.

"Yes really. As you told my friend we have the same goal and we work for the same person. It would make better sense for us to help one another in this."

She tilted her head, a curious expression on her face "You propose we work together?"

"Yes. And before you answer I will add that my friend and I cannot claim the bounty on this man. As I have said already we are paid soldiers and such rewards are not applicable to us. If you will help us and we succeed I promise we will allow you to turn him over and claim the bounty."

"An idealist are you?" He could tell from her tone that she was not convinced.

"Just a pragmatist. The Burgomaster made it very clear we cannot claim the reward ourselves and, to be honest, we could use all the help we can get."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I can only give you my word. If you do know the Burgomaster better than me then ask yourself if he would impose such a restriction upon his own men."

Katarina took a step towards him, her eyes never leaving his. He could tell that she was studying him carefully, searching for signs of deception. After what seemed like hours she finally extended her right hand. "Very well, we have an accord." Her grip was strong, her handshake firm. As he made to withdraw she tightened her grip for an instant. "Try to cross me warden, and you will regret it."

"Can't say fairer than that. Now, what can you tell me?"

"Not much I'm afraid. As I said, I have told you friend everything I have discovered. As far as I can tell Kurzwiel is no longer in this village and my information suggests he left around two weeks back."

"Yes we've had the same story" He told her about his meeting with the maid and barman, reiterating what they had told him.

"Yes it is strange no-one saw him leave. I have considered that he might still be in the area."

"So have we" He hesitated, then told her of Gerard's whereabouts and what he was hoping to find out tonight. Katarina listened with interest.

"Well I wish him good luck. But he'll need to be careful-there's been some strange goings-on around here."

"What do you mean?"

She told him about the discovery of the tunnel, the disappearance of the livestock and the discovery that some creature seemed to have entered the village during the night on at least one occasion. Rhinehardt's concern increased.

"This is disturbing news. How long-" he broke off as distant clang reached his ears. "What the-?"

"I hear it" Katarina moved to the window and opened the shutter. "It's the gong; it's coming from the gate."

Rhinehardt exited the room, heading for his own. As he entered the hallway he saw the barman dash to the stairs, axe in hand.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know sir, but that's the call to arms. Better arm yourself!"

Fumbling with his key, Rhinehardt unlocked the door and dashed inside. With barely a pause he grabbed his sword and fastened it to his belt, grabbed his bow and slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. He exited the room in time to see Katarina disappear below the stairs.

_Gerard you'd better not be the cause of this!_

In the distance the gong continued its dull clang.

TBC.


	9. Return to the Inn

Hello everyone. I realise I have not thanked my two reviewers yet, so I'll do now. I really appreciate the comments and I hope you are still enjoying the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or games workshop-and I still have to try out Warhammer online!

--

Rhinehardt was on his way to the gate when the horse burst out of the darkness and thundered past him, heading straight for the inn. The rider's cries were clearly discernable above the thunder of hooves. "Get the healer! I have a child, he needs medicine!"

Rhinehardt paused, debating whether to go back. He wanted to speak to the rider, to find out what had brought him her. However his soldier's instinct took over-the trouble was at the gate and that was where he should go. Gripping his bow, he continued on.

--

Whilst the warden headed for the gate, another figure was making for the inn. Keeping low, it darted from building to building, always careful to remain in the shadows. Thankfully those villagers who had not rushed to the gatehouse had made for the barn and he managed avoid being seen.

At the last house he dropped into a crouch and scanned the area. The thunder of hooves reached his ears. Squinting into the darkness, he just made out the shape the rider before it vanished from sight. _Interesting._

Satisfied the coast was clear, he ran for to the inn. Flattening himself against the wall, he cast a final look round and began to climb. The going was difficult, the moss coating the lower walls was slippery and several times he almost slipped. Gritting his teeth he continued the climb. Reaching a second floor window, he reached up and eased the shutter open. With a final effort he hauled himself through the opening and pulled the shutter closed.

From the corner of the inn Katarina watched the figure's climb, noting the room it had just entered. _Well Rhinehardt, it seems you and I have someone new question when this is over_.

--

There were two men at the gate besides the gatekeeper when Rhinehardt arrived, including a tall, heavily built man whom he guessed to be Bertholdt. The man had a large two handed axe swung over his shoulder and was engaged in conversation with the gatekeeper. Both men looked round as he approached.

"What's happening here?"

Bertholdt looked him over cautiously. "Road warden?" This question was addressed to the gatekeeper.

The gatekeeper nodded "Yes sir, they arrived this morning. He's genuine."

"Good" Bertholdt turned to Rhinehardt. "We've just had a rider in. It seems he was attacked by some creatures just now so we've called everyone out."

"Do you know what kind of creatures these were?"

"I'm afraid not. The rider was in a hurry, something about needing the healer. All he said was that there were creatures in the clearing. I was about to go and question him now-care to be present?"

"I'd appreciate that, but is it safe to leave the gate right now?"

"Don't worry about that-we train daily for something such as this. Everyone will be at their post by now and if there is an attack we'll soon know about it. Come on, they'll most likely head for the inn." He swung his axe over one shoulder and strode off in the direction of the White Hart. Rhinehardt glanced up at the watchtower and followed him.

--

Pain.

That was the first sensation Gerard felt when he woke. A dull throbbing ache at the back of his head that made it very difficult to think straight. _Gods, what was I drinking last night?_

He tried to move, only to find his hands bound tight behind his back. His tongue scraped over the gag wedged into his mouth and when he moved his legs he found them bound securely at the ankles. He tried to sit up only to fall back down as pain flared through his head. He fought down the urge to vomit, taking deep breathes until it subsided. He tried again, this time more slowly and managed to get into a sitting position.

He could hear the sound of voices from somewhere beyond his vision. Although groggy he could just make out snippets of conversation.

"_All dead out here..."_

"_...not in here..."_

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he raised his feet and placed them against a stack of tools to his right. A swift kick sent them crashing to the ground with an almighty clang.

"What was that?" The voice was closer now. He lifted his feet and thumped the heels against the floor, mumbling through the gag as loud as he could. The voice came again "There's someone back here!"

The wall began to glow as someone approached with a light. He redoubled his efforts and was rewarded when that someone looked round the corner, lantern in hand, and he stared into a familiar face.

Alec set the lantern on a nearby hook "Bernard, get over here quickly!"

Strong hands lifted him up and carried him into the centre of the barn. Alec quickly drew a knife and proceeded to cut the ropes that bound him "What happened here?"

Gerard reached up gingerly and pulled the gag from his mouth "Take me to the inn quickly!" Alec opened his mouth to speak but Gerard cut him off "No time to explain, take me there now!"

His joints were stiff and ached painfully from being bound for so long, but he forced himself to walk as Alec helped him to his feet and half-carried him to the entrance.

He spotted the bodies immediately.

The first one lay face down, arms outstretched and fingers dug deep into the earth. Gerard did not recognise him. Kurzwiel's body lay two feet away. He was face up, both hands clutching the hilt of the dagger embedded in his chest, teeth fixed closed in the grimace of death.

"What happened here?"

Alec shrugged "We don't know. These two were here when we arrived. There's been a fight here, of that we're certain, but whoever else was involved is long gone."

Gerard nodded grimly "Would you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Place a guard on those bodies. They must not be disturbed until we get a chance to examine the scene."

"Is that an order sir?"

"It is"

"Allright" Alec took a firmer grip on his arm. "We'll get you to the inn and I'll attend to it myself."

--

From the shadows of the trees two figures watched the village, their eyes drawn to the torch that illuminated the watchtower. The taller of the two turned its horned head, scratching idly at its long beard. "And you say the other rider is dead."

"Yes, he was killed when we brought his horse down."

"I told you I wanted prisoners!" It lashed out angrily, dealing a heavy blow that sent the second figure reeling "Go back and bring the rest of the band, we will need them shortly."

It turned its gaze back to the village. _Soon!_

TBC.


	10. The Messenger's Tale

Hello everyone-sorry for the delay, but I finally got round to writing the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of warhammer; it is the property of Games Workshop.

--

The White Hart was a humdrum of activity when the two of them arrived. The innkeeper was fussing over a collection of glass jars, mixing a strange paste together in a small wooden bowl. He wore a rather worn overcoat and a woodsman's axe lay on the bar beside him. He glanced up as they entered.

"I know why your here, but you'll need to wait till we've finished. I've sent Perkins to get the healer."

Rhinehardt took in the rest of the room. The nearest table was occupied by a young, dark haired man dressed in black with a grey cloak swept back over his shoulders. The newcomer had one leg propped up on a chair. The fabric of his breeches had been cut back to the thigh to reveal an ugly gash above the knee. This was currently being tended by the cloaked figure Rhinehardt had seen earlier that night. He was clad as before and the hood of his scaled cloak was still drawn over his head, concealing his face.

The table opposite this one was occupied by Mary and a large middle age woman whom he hadn't t seen before. Her iron grey hair was tied back into a tight bun and like Mary she was still clad in a gown and night dress. They were both fussing over a small figure crouched on one of the chairs. On closer inspection Rhinehardt realised it was a child, a child clad in torn clothing and covered in dirt. It clutched its legs tightly to its chest and seemed largely unaware of the two women trying comfort it.

"We'll need to speak to them both soon" Bertholdt's tone was soft, but firm.

"No one speaks to this young man until he sees the healer." This time it was the large woman who spoke. "Sigmar only knows what he's been through but I doubt he'll want to talk tonight." She held the constable's gaze without flinching.

"Easy darling, I'm sure these two understand the need for patience here." The innkeeper lifted one hand in a calming gesture.

"She's right though." The man at the first table grimaced as the cloaked figure dabbed some of the paste prepared by the innkeeper over his wound. "That kid's been through some trauma, he's not gonna be up to answering questions. I've tried questioning him on the way here but he won't even acknowledge me."

"And you Richard, you feel up to answering some questions?"

"Well, as soon as this gentleman discharges me I don't see why not."

"You'll be fine; just don't go putting too much weight on that leg." The cloaked man's voice was soft, even melodious; and rather muffled, almost as though he was speaking through a gag. He got up to leave. Before he reached the stairs Katarina got up from her seat and blocked his path.

"I'm afraid the warden and I have a few questions to ask you, we'd be obliged if you would remain here until we've finished."

"Is that so?" The cloaked man's tone could not be described as friendly.

Katarina caught Rhnehardt's attention, trying to convey the urgency of the situation. To his credit, Rhinehardt caught on quickly. "That is so; I request that you stay here until I have a chance to speak with you."

"And if I refuse?"

Rhinehardt's gaze hardened as the man turned to face him. He crossed his arms and took a step forward. "I suggest you co-operate." For a moment the man seemed about to argue. Then with a brief shrugged he dropped into a chair and leaned back. "Try not to take too long, I'd like to get back to sleep."

Rhinehardt turned back to Bertholdt. "Ready when you are."

After the introductions were made the constable pulled up a chair and asked Richard to begin. "Start at the beginning lad. We may as well here the whole story."

"Well sirs, it all began like this..."

--

"You will recall that some two weeks ago I left this village for Mordheim, the object being to inform the Burgomaster of our troubles and hopefully gain some military assistance."

Bertholdt nodded. "Yes I remember I take it you reached there safely or you would not have returned."

"Aye, the journey was uneventful. I was on edge all the time but I saw no signs danger and the inhabitants of the few hamlets I lodged in were all hospitable. I reached the town in just under six days and by that time I was in good spirits."

"Were you successful?"

"I'm afraid it did not go well. I had to wait a full day before the Burgomaster would see me. When he did he was polite, but little else. I was granted fifteen minutes audience. He expressed sympathy but told me that with the civil unrest amongst the northern villages his forces were too occupied to be diverted. He promised to divert one of his patrols to inspect the area, but said if things became dangerous we must evacuate."

Bertholdt gave a snort of contempt. "Can't say I expected any different. Those nobles are solely concerned with their own interests; they don't give a hoot about lowly peasants like us."

Rhinehardt glanced at him sharply. "Those words can be taken as incitement; speaking as an official I'll warn you to mind what you say about our governor!"

Bertholdt held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away. "As you wish."

Rhinehardt returned his gaze to Richard. "Please continue."

"Well I stayed in town another day, then I set out. I wanted to be back as soon as possible so I took the more direct route and avoided the two nearest hamlets. After a previously successful journey I felt safe enough sleeping under the stars. It was all uneventful on the first day; it was uneventful most of the next morning. Then just before mid day I came upon the fist hamlet..."

--

_The small hut was hidden behind a cluster of trees, so he did not suspect something was amiss until less than half mile distant. He could remember the hamlet well. Though small, it was built of sturdy timber with a thatched roof. All that remained now was a smoking ruin, the few timbers standing heavily blackened. From the look of it this had happened several days previously but the air was still thick with the stench of burnt wood and thatch. The small paddock that had enclosed the dwelling's two goats had been smashed. Of the animals themselves there was no trace._

_He found the bodies by the house. Both were burnt beyond recognition and what little remained had been picked clean by scavengers, leaving only the scattered remains of the charred skeletons. One lay in the doorway, the other within the ruins. _

_Richard thought back to the occupants-a middle aged man from further south, his wife and their teenage daughter. Though a little suspicious they had treated him well and he had promised to call in on the way back. Now he was looking at all that remained of that happy family-smoking ruins, like the house they had so carefully maintained. _

_Though he did not wish to tarry here longer than necessary Richard managed to dig a shallow grave and bury the bones. There was no time to do more. _

_A quick exploration of the area revealed nothing. Any clues as to what might have happened had been washed away by the elements. Lacking the skills of a tracker he was unable to define what had done this or where it had gone._

--

"Things were no different at the next dwelling. Every hamlet I came to had been burnt to the ground. There were no survivors. It was five days ago when I came across the caravan."

"Caravan?" A puzzled expression crossed Rhinehardt's face.

"A group of traveller's sir. I remember they came here the same day I left."

Bertholdt nodded. "That's true, they left the next day, said they were heading for Mordheim."

"Well they never made it. They must have been ambushed. Same as the hamlets-no survivors and everything burned. Only difference is they didn't take the trouble to burn the bodies, just left them to rot. I did a quick scout of the area-that's when I found the lad." He gestured towards the child. "Seems he crawled into a hole under a thorn bush, only reason he escaped. I almost missed him and it took me a long time to convince him to come out. I've tried to get him to talk but he won't respond. Just sits there shivering and sobbing to himself. After what he's witnessed I don't blame him but I don't understand why he still won't say anything."

"It's fear." All eyes turned to the cloaked figure. "I've seen this before. He witnessed something horrifying; especially for one his age, and was probably too frightened to scream. He'll speak again when he feels safe, but I'm afraid you won't get a word out him until then."

"Well anyway, I'd no sooner persuaded him to come out when someone else turned up."

--

_Richard glanced up at the sound of approaching hooves. Pushing the boy aside he drew his sword, relaxing a little as the rider entered the clearing. The man was dressed in long cloak but Richard recognised him, he'd met this rider several times when he had come to the village. This was Felix, an outrider employed by the Burgomaster to relay messages and keep tabs on the neighbouring settlements. _

"_Over here." He saw the man reach for his sword, but relax his grip as recognition set in."There's no one here, I've checked the area."_

_Felix dismounted. "Any survivors?"_

"_Just the lad here." He helped the boy to his feet and steered him towards his horse."Looks like an ambush, and a bloody one at that."_

"_Yes. You're a bit far from your village aren't you?"_

"_Returning from Mordheim, had to deliver a message for the Burgomaster."_

"_Ah, so it was you they were talking about when I left. Well your village lies on my route; you can come with me if you like."_

_Felix had always had a somewhat superior attitude that had never failed to irritate him, but after what he had seen these last few days he would feel much safer travelling in company and it would be useful to have an extra pair of eyes to watch the boy. "I would appreciate that." He glanced around at the bodies. "Do you think we should bury them?"_

"_No. If we had an armed patrol with us I'd say yes, but we don't know how long ago this happened. Whatever or whoever did this could come back at any moment. No, we must ride hard and put as much distance between ourselves and this place as we can."_

_Richard could see the wisdom in his words. He helped the child up into the saddle and climbed up himself. "Then let us move."_

--

"We suspected it would not end there and we were right. We were camping in a small clearing two nights ago when the attack came. There couldn't have been many, less than a dozen, but they were well organised. But luck it seems was with us. One of them startled a partridge and raised the alarm. Felix managed to shoot one with his bow and the rest retreated. I guess they had no bows of their own as we were able to mount quickly and escape. We've been riding hard ever since then. Thought we'd given them the slip but they ambushed us just outside the village. Now here I am."

"Felix isn't with you now?"

"No, he didn't make it."

"Damn, we could use his bow right now. I know the two of you were never close but he was a good man. Crack shot too, could take an apple off a post at 30 paces; and he could do it time and again without missing."

Richard nodded. "Yeah."

"Did you see what did this?"

"There was no trace remaining around the burnt out houses, or at the caravan. I didn't learn anything from that night they attacked, although I'll never forget the sound they made."

"The sound?"

"Yes, the sound. A high pitched squealing, reminded me of a pig being slaughtered. It scared me real bad and I don't mind admitting that. As for tonight...well things can look different in the moonlight but I got a close up look at some of our attackers."

"And what'd they look like?"

"I know what two of them looked like. They were covered in fur, and they had curved horns on their heads."

Rhinehardt tilted his head. "Do you mean animals?"

"No, these creatures walked on two legs."

"Chaos beasts?" The room went silent, each occupant suddenly pondering the new situation this news had created. Bandits were bad enough but beasts of chaos! This was serious. Katarina unconsciously tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger and Mary drew her robe tighter around her shoulders. Only the cloaked figure gave no visible reaction. The silence was finally broken by Bertholdt.

"Did Felix say anything about any patrols being sent out?"

"He said there was one scheduled to leave the city but it wasn't due to come this way.

"And the Burgomaster said he would send help for us?"

"Yes, but he did not say when."

"Then we are on our own."

Before anyone else could comment the inn door opened to reveal an elderly woman clad in a faded grey dress with a small bag under her arm. She strode into the room with an air of authority and addressed the inn keeper. "Quickly, where are the patients?"

"Over here." Richard raised his hand in imitation of a misbehaved child who is about to go before the headmistress. "But I'm all right for the moment Jane; our friend seems to have done a good job on my leg. The child's had a bad time though; I think you'd better see to him first."

The healer strode over to Mary's table. "Let me see him. And you two!" Here she turned to address Bertholdt and Rhinehardt. "Help Alec with the other one, he's had a nasty knock."

"The other..." Rhinehardt turned to see the men in question entering. Gerard was being supported between Perkins and a second man whom he recognised from the card game earlier that night. He grinned at Rhinehardt's surprised look. "Sorry I'm late, got a bit tied up. Hope I haven't missed anything."

"That's a bit of an understatement; there have been some developments, and what on earth happened to your head?"

"I'll tell you later. What about these developments?"

"Do you need my help with anything?" Berthodlt directed his question at Rhinehardt. The warden shook his head in response.

"No we should be fine from here. I'll let you know if we find out anything new."

Rhinehardt seemed satisfied with this and made for the door. "Come on Alec, get to your post."

When they had gone Rhinehardt gave Gerard a cut down version of Richard's story, with the rider chipping in now and then to fill in the gaps. When he had finished Gerard sighed deeply. "We finally make some headway and something like this happens. Typical."

"Headway?"

Gerard motioned Rhinehardt over. He didn't want anyone else to know what had transpired tonight. Rhinehardt in turn motioned Katarina over. "She's with us" he said in response to Gerard's questioning look.

"I see."

Once he was satisfied no one else was paying them any attention Gerard briefly outlined what had taken place that night, beginning with when he left the inn and ending with the discovery of the bodies outside the barn.

"And Kurzwiel was not among them."

"No. Either they took him or he's still in the village, assuming he didn't go over the wall which I doubt."

At this moment the healer got up from her seat. "The boy just requires rest and time. Is there anywhere he can stay Muriel?"

The woman being addressed nodded. "I'll put him in my room for the night, I doubt I'll be getting any sleep right now anyway. And you can keep an eye on him." Here she pointed at Richard. "Come on, it's off to bed for the both of you." With the help of Perkins and the innkeeper they managed to get Richard up the stairs, followed by the child. This now left only the wardens, Katarina and the cloaked man in the room. The latter made to follow the others upstairs, but Rhinehardt called him back. "I told you I wanted a word."

"I don't see that I can tell you anything."

"I'll be the judge of that. First of all where have you been tonight?"

"In my room."

"I tried your door earlier. Why didn't you answer me?"

"I was probably asleep; I don't recall anyone coming to my door."

"You were asleep with the light on?" Rhinehardt's tone was disbelieving.

"Yes, I sleep very sound and I like to give the impression I'm awake. I find it good for security."

"You sleep so soundly you don't even notice when someone climbs through your window after the alarm has been raised?" All eyes turned to Katarina. "Our friend had a visitor tonight." She related what she had seen earlier.

"This person must have entered someone else's room."

"No. I checked the window's position. It was yours'"

"Then I must have been outside when he entered." The cloaked man leaned back in his chair.

Again Katarina shook her head. "You came down a good five minutes after I came back inside. There is no chance you would have failed to notice this person. And considering our target is currently missing this raises an interesting possibility."

"I agree." Gerard's tone was cold. "Either our friend here had a hallucination or you are lying through your teeth. Now you will provide an explanation or I will have you arrested and placed in irons."

"Is that so?"

"It most certainly is."

"From beneath his cowl the cloaked figure seemed to regard each one of them in turn. Finally he gave a slight shrug and stood up. "That won't be necessary." He reached into the long coat he wore under his cloak. "Relax, I'm not armed" he raised his other hand in a placating gesture as Katarina reached for her axe. From within the folds he produced a slip of paper which he handed to Rhinehardt.

The warden glanced at the paper and passed it to Gerard. He looked up in surprise. "It's a despatch, signed by the Burgomaster."

"Issued at my request in case something like this should happen. As you should have gathered from that letter I am here for the same reason's you are, namely in pursuit of a bounty. And no, I have not found my quarry. You are welcome to search my room if you wish but you will find nothing."

"Nonetheless I would feel better."

"Very well then."

He handed his key to Rhinehardt. The warden exited up the stairs and returned ten minutes later. "It checks out, there's no one there. I checked my room and the maid's to be sure. Kurzwiel isn't here."

"All right I believe you. Nonetheless in view of what has just happened we would appreciate any information you can give us tonight."

"I work alone, and I do not share out bounties." Here he directed a wary glance at Katarina, who gave him an equally unfriendly look.

"Maybe. But I am still prepared to arrest you if needs be. And I might just add that I am not above delaying you in order to make sure that Miss Grenfell here claims the bounty in your stead."

The cloaked man chuckled audibly. "You three could not detain me if you tried. Still the situation has altered somewhat as you say, and I could do without three extra problems to concern myself with. All right then, I'll tell you what I know." He took a chair and sat down opposite Gerard. After a slight hesitation he reached up and drew his hood back.

The wardens stared in surprise. The man's appearance was not what they had expected. His features were fine, almost delicate. He had high cheek bones and rather narrowed eye sockets from which a pair of piercing blue eyes stared with a detached, appraising air. Gerard remembered the gatekeeper's description of those eyes-he had not been exaggerating. The man's long hair hung down past his shoulders. Its colour was very pale, almost silver.

The lower half of the man's face was covered by a black scarf, which he reached up and removed. His lower features matched the rest of his face-a thin mouth and a finely chiselled chin with no trace of stubble. His features were marred by a pair of scars. The first ran the length of his chin and was so faint Gerard might not have noticed it had he been sitting further away. The second scar was more prominent-a single line that ran from the hairline just above his left ear, terminating halfway across the middle of his cheek. Whatever had caused that scar had missed his eye by less than an inch-a very lucky escape.

"So, what do we call you?" Gerard asked.

"Call me Joseph. That is how you Burgomaster knows me."

TBC


	11. The Mercenary's Tale

Next chapter up now-hopefully I can keep this pace up, but I cannot guarantee it-and again please read and review, I do not write this solely for my own enjoyment.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the world created by Games Workshop.

--

_Jocab Adolphus was a balding middle aged man whose family had migrated north from Averland more than one hundred years previously in the hopes of improving their fortunes in the northernmost provinces. It had taken several generations but they had finally gained a grasp on power. When Adolphus's grandfather was elected to become the Burgomaster of Mordheim he had promptly set about securing his position through fair means and foul, even daring to go as far as rigging elections in the less well policed areas. By these means his family had successfully maintained their position, despite increasing hostility from the local aristocracy. _

_The last member of that family studied Joseph as he entered the room. The mercenary looked as unkempt as ever. He still wore the same weather-beaten barber over black breeches and shirt. The scaled cloak was wrapped around his body and the only weapon visible was the curved blade he always kept strapped to his back. His cold blue eyes met Jocab's equally cold grey ones with an unflinching stare._

_For a full minute both men stared without speaking, then Jocab looked away and rubbed his eyes."I thank you for coming Joseph. I suppose you can guess why I've...requested your presence." He gestured to a chair. Joseph glanced at it, but made no move to sit._

"_You want me to find someone; that is our usual arrangement."_

"_I'm afraid it goes further than that. The individual I want apprehended is carrying something of value to me, something that is rightfully mine that he has decided to abscond with. It is important that you to apprehend him and bring this object directly to me."_

_Joseph nodded. "First things first-what's the pay like?"_

"_The reward is set at six thousand gold pieces, only payable on delivery of the fugitive and his cargo. If you secure him without his cargo then I will only pay one third of the reward."_

_Joseph nodded. "That is a good offer. However I will also require you to provide expense money for my travelling arrangements."_

_Adolphus raised his eyebrows. "I have already made you a generous offer Joseph; I take it you do not intend to push your luck!" His tone contained a note of warning._

_Joseph held his gaze. "Don't forget it was you who requested me. Those are my terms and if you don't like them then I may as well leave now." So saying he made for the door, but Adolphus called him back before he reached it._

"_Wait! All right I suggest a compromise. My clerk will give you some money after this meeting. If this proves inadequate I will re-imburse the rest of your expenses when you return here. Is that acceptable? "_

"_Yes, that seems fair. The next thing I will ask about is the target. Who is this person?"_

_Adolphus took a sip of water from the glass on his desk. "His name is Kurzwiel. He was a guard employed in my service until one month previously. He gave all appearances of being a loyal soldier so I chose him to act as a courier. His mission was to go to Talabheim, retrieve a parcel and bring it to me."_

_As he spoke the Burgomaster reached into a desk draw and withdrew and old map, which he spread out across the table. "Now we know he made the rendezvous here." He gestured to a mark that pinpointed some ancient ruins to the east of Talabheim. "He crossed the border six days ago and was reported in the village of Nincha." Adolphus placed another marker on the map. "From here he is known to have departed with the intention of coming to Mordheim. After that his trail goes cold. _

"_Was he alone?"_

"_As far as we can tell; he was alone when he set out and I gave him orders not to share his mission with anyone."_

"_And you believe he got greedy and decided to run for it. I take it this package was valuable."_

"_Not as you would define it. It has no real value on the market, but it happens to be an heirloom of my family. It was on loan to a cousin in Talabheim and was supposed to be returned to me by now. As to his been greedy I will not rule out the possibility, but he could have had an accident. We've been getting increasing reports of bandit activity these last few months."_

"_Yes I've heard the rumours. And you chose to have this item transported in this way?"_

"_With civil unrest at its current state we felt it would be safer than public transport. And as I said, we believed Kurzwiel was a loyal soldier at the time. We may have been mistaken, or something may have happened to him. Either way this package is of primary importance. Your first goal is to be its retrieval." He reached back into his draw and withdrew a roll of parchment. "This contains all the information you will need to begin your search and I would obliged if you will destroy this once you have memorised it. You will need to begin now." _

"_Will there be anyone else after the bounty?"_

"_Yes, I will be sending my own officials and some other bounty hunters, though none of you will know the other's identity. You are to avoid contact with them unless absolutely necessary. Is that clear?"_

"_Crystal .The other hunters are not my concern, I will deal with them if and when the need arises. However if your officials are going to be on the case I would be obliged if you could provide me with a written seal concerning this matter-the last thing I need is some overzealous warden detaining me for questioning."_

_Adolphus leaned back wearily. "I suppose you are right, but I trust you will exercise discretion over its use."_

"_I will."_

"_Very well. Report to my clerk in two hours, I will have it prepared by then."_

"_Is there anything more I should know?"_

"_One last thing. The item you must recover is a small triangular stone. It will appear pale green in colour and it has several runes engraved upon its surface. Do not touch the stone under any circumstances. It can only be transported safely inside a specially prepared box. Kurzwiel will have had the original, I will provide you with a spare in case something should happen." So saying he reached into his desk drawer for the third time and produced a wooden box, which he handed to Joseph._

_The mercenary examined the box carefully. It was two inches long, about the same in width and made of dark oak. When he opened it he found the sides were sealed with a layer of lead, with felt placed inside to protect the contents._

"_Dangerous is it?"_

"_Not exactly, but it is fragile. It must be transported by this means only. And no!" He raised a hand and brushed aside the unspoken question. "You may not know any more. This matter is important to me-I know you to be trustworthy but I have told you everything you need to know. If you wish you can still walk out, but once you take this I consider you bound by contract. Have a think if you wish, but I expect you answer within a few hours. Good day."_

_He pulled a lever attached to his desk. After a moment the door was opened by a manservant who remained in the doorway awaiting instructions. Realising the interview was over, Joseph turned on his heel and exited._

--

His tale finished, Joseph regarded the others warily. "I gather you were all told much the same when he briefed you."

Rhinehardt nodded. "Yes we were, though I will admit he was rather more liberal with information in our case, and he did not supply us with a box."

"I don't doubt it. The man is a politician to the core-he will have told you what you needed to know, but nothing more. I don't suppose he gave you a box?" Here Joseph turned the meet Katarina's gaze.

"He did. I have it in a safe location. He was also rather liberal with me. It seems you have his favour if he entrusted you with this".

"No." Joseph leaned back in his chair. "He just knows better than to double cross me."

Gerard regarded him curiously."Then you have worked for him before?"

"On occasion." Joseph's tone implied he did not intend to elaborate on this.

"I see. Well, I guess the next question is, 'where do we go from here'."

"You can do what you like wardens. As I said I work alone-I will not obstruct your investigation but do not expect any help from me. The bounty is mine."

"We cannot claim the bounty you seek."

"But she can. I assume she is working with you"

"Katarina is helping us with our enquiries" replied Rhinehardt.

"For my own purposes" she cut in.

"Of course. However, regardless of what you two may wish the fact is we are now stuck inside a village that is potentially under siege. Our quarry has eluded us and we are all no closer to apprehending him than we were before. We don't have to help each other, we do not have to like each other but we do have the same goal. Now can we at least agree to share information with each other?"

Joseph merely shrugged. "I suppose your request is reasonable. Very well, I will share information with the three of you, but that's all. Are we clear?"

"Yes and with that in mind." Rhinehardt now told his story to the two bounty hunters. He explained everything that had happened following their departure from Mordheim, concluding with what they had learnt at the poker game earlier that night.

When he had finished Gerard took up the story, explaining everything that had happened after he had left the inn. He described what took place during the barn, how he had been overpowered and blacked out. How upon being found he had discovered the bodies of Krueger and his companion. This information appeared to puzzle Joseph.

"Are you sure there were only two bodies?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"I was right wasn't I?" Katarina cut in before he could answer. "That _was_ you I saw climbing the wall tonight."

"It was. I had decided to take a look around the village on the off-chance Kurzwiel was still here. He was more likely to be moving around at night if that was the case. I was exploring the place when I heard the warning gong sound; there were screams from the direction of the barn so I went to investigate them."

"What did you see?"

"An ambush." Joseph related what had happened, the details of the ambush, how he had intervened and cut down the attackers only to be driven into the barn by a hail of missiles. He finished the tale with a description of how he escaped, preferring to avoid awkward questions from the villagers.

"I saw only two bodies. Are you certain you felled these attackers?"

"Yes-the wounds I struck were deep, they could not have lived."

"Then they must have been moved, probably by the ones that drove you off."

Rhinehardt's face assumed an uneasy expression. "That would mean the village has been infiltrated without detection, and from what I've been told this may have happened before."

"It would seem that way, in which case this place is not as secure as we all hoped." There was a new sense of uncertainty in Katarina's voice.

"There is nothing we can do about that" replied Gerard. "We will just have to be more careful. In the meantime our target has escaped and is still in the village. The question is 'How do we find him?'"

"I'd suggest we place a curfew on the village. That constable seems a level man, perhaps he could help." Joseph stood up slowly and stretched. "And on that note I intend to catch some sleep, I'll bid you all good night."

--

Gerard waited until the man's footsteps were no longer audible before he spoke again. "Do you think he can be trusted?"

Rhinehardt shrugged in response." I trust him about as much as I trust the next man, but at least this way we can keep tabs on him. And who knows, we can use all the information we can get right now."

Katarina smiled for the first time that night. It might have been his headache but Gerard swore her eyes seemed to light up with this gesture. "I cannot remember how many times I've heard you say that tonight, what is with you two and this obsession over information."

"This 'obsession' as you term it miss, is the result of experience." Rhinehardt allowed a smile to play across his own features. "When I was hunting the Kurgan tribes in the wastes of Kislev I learnt a valuable lesson. I learnt that to fight without information is like sending a blind man to war with a crossbow. Do not underestimate its value. Now if you will both excuse me I think I will go and speak to the constable. A curfew might not be such a bad idea. And while we're at it I'll get someone to stand sentry outside for the night, just in case. "

Gerard nodded in agreement. "I'll stay here for now-I could use the rest and at least I can keep an eye on this place."

Katarina picked up her fight axe and moved towards the door. "Well good luck with that. As for me I intend to take a look around the village, see what I can find."

"You'd do better to get some rest."

"I need some air. I'll see you both tomorrow. And watch out for Joseph-elves cannot be trusted."

"Yes well...what was that?!" The wardens looked at her in surprise.

"Another bit of information for you gentlemen. Did you not notice his left ear is pointed, last time I looked only elves and orcs have that feature. And unless I am mistaken he was no green skin."

With that she exited through the door, leaving the two men to their thoughts. Gerard was the first to speak. "An elf! I thought they were just fairy stories!"

"They are very real my friend, of that I can assure you. And elves cannot trusted-I've seen their handiwork."

"Yes you told me about that, but this one has been accepted by the Burgomaster. For that reason we must tolerate him. Think you can do that?"

Rhinehardt drew in a deep breath. "I'll try. You just watch yourself till I get back."

"Good night."

When he had left Gerard shifted his chair back against the wall and laid his sword on the table. It certainly had been an eventful night, and who knew what surprises tomorrow might bring.

TBC

OOC: Well now-truthfully did anyone see that coming? Well there is new face on the block, but what has happened to Kurzwiel? And what of this strange package he is meant to deliver? Watch out for more updates coming soon. And as always _please_ read and review.


	12. Plans Are Laid

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the properties of Games Workshop.

--

Dawn broke several hours later, the light slanting in through the shutters to stir Gerard from his slumber. He growled irritably and threw the covers off. _It always seems to come too early!_ After shaving and dressing he made his way downstairs. As he descended the welcome smell of cooked meat wafted up into his nostrils, causing his stomach to growl in anticipation. _Didn't realise I was that hungry_.

Rhinehardt was sitting at one of the tables when he arrived, tucking into a plate of sausages, bacon and toasted bread. There was no one else present. He nodded as Gerard approached. "Order at the bar mate-say what you will about the ale in here, but the cooking's not bad."

After he'd placed an order Gerard sat down facing his colleague. "Any new developments?"

"Since last night?" Rhinehardt took a swig of water. "No nothings stirring, although with this mist it's been hard to see anything."

Gerard glanced out through the window. The mist was certainly very thick-in fact he could not even make out the outline of the stockade through the window. Visibility must be down to a few feet at best. "Been like this long?"

"Yeah, it formed just after the sun rose, or so I've been told."

"Did you get that curfew established?"

"Berthodlt's seeing to it, he'll let us know if anything happens. Mind you with the mist this thick Kurzwiel could still slip past him."

Gerard shook his head. "I don't think he'll try that."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well first of all he'll have most likely heard about the beastman attack by now. If he was unwilling to make a dash when he thought the woods were clear then I very much doubt he'll attempt it now."

"The mist might give him the confidence to try."

"Nonsense-I haven't been outside but I bet we'd have trouble seeing out hands in front of our faces, so how on earth could Kurzwiel find his way through there in this weather. And let's not forget he is an experienced soldier-he's fought against beastmen before and he'd know better than to play hide and seek with them on their own ground."

Rhinehardt nodded. "That does make some sense. But I think we need to find him quickly, something's not right here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well consider this Gerard--we know that Krueger was in league with Kurzwiel, and from what you've managed to recall it seems that other corpse they found last night was too. I've been thinking about it all morning-now IF Joseph is telling the truth then there were at least two intruders abroad last night. If they were thieves or brigands then they should have targeted the inn or one of the huts, but they headed straight for the barn. Why? There's nothing of value in there. Don't you think it's rather strange that they should attack Kurzwiel's group the second they step out of hiding."

"What are you saying-you think they were after him?"

"It's certainly possible. That is assuming there were some unknown killers abroad. Let's not forget we've only got this elf's word for it."

Gerard smiled. "I know what you mean-he may be in the Burgomaster's pay but that does not mean we can trust him. Do you think he might have killed them only for Kurzwiel to elude him?"

"That may be. You were right about one thing though, we will need to keep an eye on him."

"On the other hand if he is telling the truth then it means someone else is after him, and they may not be looking for the bounty." Gerard slapped his forehead suddenly. "Shit-they may already have him! How do we know he did escape the other night? Whether it was Joseph or these others they may have apprehended him. He might not even be in the village anymore!"

"That possibility had occurred to me gentlemen."

Both men looked round sharply at the sound of Joseph's voice. The elf had descended the stairs and was halfway to their table. Neither one of them had detected his approach.

Rhinehardt rose to his feet angrily. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Joseph strode past them and ordered a drink from the bar. Now that they looked closely the two men were able to see the tip of his left ear beneath the long hair. As Katarina had described it was pointed at the tip. Add to this his delicate appearance and Katarina's claim of him being of elven blood suddenly seemed much more plausible.

"How much did you hear?" it was Gerard who spoke next.

"Enough."

"And?"

"And what? You are correct in everything you say, excepting your suspicions about me."

"Can you prove that?"

"No, you will have to take my word for it."

Rhinehardt gave a snort of contempt "You have to admit that's not much to go on."

If Joseph was angered by the warden's attitude he gave no sign. "I'm not going to waste my breath trying to convince you. The two of you can either accept my story or not, but I swear I speak the truth-and despite what you may think my origins have no bearing on that fact."

Again Gerard attempted to keep the peace. "All right, you have the Burgomaster's seal and that is good enough for me. I agree to accept your story, but you'll have to forgive us if we seem a little...mistrustful of you."

Joseph merely shrugged his shoulders. "I'd expect nothing less."

A silence descended upon the room, broken only when the cook (whom Gerard recognised from the previous night) bustled in with two steaming meals on a large tray. Gerard thanked her for the effort, Joseph made no comment. When she had left Joseph began to stir his soup, seemingly lost in the trails of steam that rose upwards from the bowl. Rhinehardt finished his own meal, keeping one wary eye fixed upon the elf.

After a few minutes Gerard attempted to ease the tension. "So...Joseph, have you had any luck with the quarry?"

"No." The elf did not look up from his meal.

"What about the attack-you said you'd heard our theories."

"It is possible I suppose-whoever attacked Kurzwiel's friends were professional fighters, not your common bandit or beastman for that matter."

Gerard leaned forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. "Are you sure about that?"

"I saw most of the attack, although I could not intervene in time. They moved swiftly and with stealth and the ambush was carefully timed-beastmen do not act like that. But assassins do."

Gerard's eyebrows flew to the bridge of his forehead. "You're saying these were assassins?"

"Possibly, but whatever they were their training was above that of the average soldier."

Gerard nodded very slowly, digesting this new information. Finally he met Rhinehardt's gaze. "This affair is getting stranger by the day my friend. We need to find this man and question him quickly."

"Do you think there is some truth in what he said to you last night?"

"I don't know my friend. The nobility of the town are not...saints shall we say...but that does not mean Kurzwiel spoke the truth. I only know that this mission is certainly more complicated than we were led to believe and I want to know more."

"The Burgomaster gave us strict orders." Rhinehardt's tone held a note of warning.

"Yes I know!" Gerard continued in a calmer tone. "But I doubt he could have foreseen we would be trapped inside a village under siege. If we can apprehend Kurzwiel quickly then we may have a chance to question him."

"Then we should start searching now"

Both looked at Joseph. "You mean right now?" Gerard was not sure he had heard him right. "In this mist?"

"Why not-perfect time for him to be out and about, and it'll allow scouting outside this village without being seen."

Now the wardens regarded him in disbelief. "Are you mad? You heard the rider's report, we have beastmen around right now, and even if you could get out of the gate unnoticed they must have surely have sentries posted around here."

"I don't think that will happen yet. If they were present in strength they would have attacked by now, most likely the group who waylaid the rider were a scout party. Or it might just be a small herd. Either way it's likely they're still organising themselves-they'll want to wait till they are at full strength before they come in closer."

Gerard was not convinced. "That's assuming they haven't brought up reinforcements during the night."

"If they have it will not be a problem. I've been fighting these creatures longer than the two of you put together. I know something of how they act and I've had plenty of experience in this field-believe me it won't be a problem. All I'll require is one of the locals to come with me, it would be best to have someone who knows the area."

"You can take me with you as well" remarked Rhinehardt.

"That won't be necessary."

"That is not the issue. If you think you can find Kurzwiel then I intend to be there."

"And of course to make sure I don't disappear."

"That as well."

"You can come if you wish, but don't get in my way."

Before Rhinehardt could reply to this the front door opened, revealing the broad figure of the innkeeper. He entered the room and closed the door hastily, before making his way to the bar, beating his arms against his chest for warmth. "Spirit please love, I need something strong. Good morning sirs" he remarked upon noticing the group.

Gerard returned the greeting. "Is it still quiet out there?"

"Aye mate that it is. Not a creature stirring. I must say I don't like it-quiets very unnatural."

"What will you do if there is a beast herd out there?"

"There isn't much we can do. We've sent three pigeons out for Mordheim with messages attached. We'll just have to sit tight and wait till help arrives."

"Are you prepared for a siege?"

The innkeeper nodded grimly. "We've been making preparations since all the trouble started round here. There's fresh water and plenty of food stored throughout the village."

"So we can hold out if needs be?" This question had been nagging Gerard all night.

"While the water lasts, we may have a chance."

Joseph waited until the man had left before giving voice to his thoughts.

"That will depend on more than the water. This place is no fortress-it'll do for a cursory raid but it won't stand against a large war party."

"Maybe, but that stockade certainly looks solid" remarked Gerard.

Rhinehardt was more sceptical. "Solid or not, there aren't enough villagers to man the whole perimeter. Even with us they'd be severely stretched."

Joseph agreed. "The villagers made a serious mistake-they've built too big a barrier-better to have constructed a smaller bailey within this stockade, then they could at least retreat to it if the outer wall was overwhelmed."

"They are simple people" replied Rhinehardt. "To their way of thinking, if the village is enclosed then they feel safe but they seldom look beyond that. It's more about making themselves feel safe than making a proper fort."

"Then we must conduct our search now before time runs out."

"I agree" Gerard took another bite of bacon. "Your two can start the sweep outside as soon as you are ready. While you're doing that I'll get a party together and sweep the village. If he is still here then perhaps I can find him."

"Be careful who you choose, we don't know if any more of the villagers are helping him."

"Let me worry about that Rhinehardt. You just focus on staying alive out there."

"In that case I'll speak to the constable-I'm sure he could secure a guide." Rhinehardt rose from the table. Collecting his sword and cloak from a nearby table he opened the front door and left, leaving a few tendrils of mist wafting in his wake.

--

TBC.

Well, this lot have been jabbering away long enough-time to pick up the pace a little.


	13. The Search is Mounted

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop.

--

Katarina cursed as her foot slipped on the woodwork. The stockade was far from new, with patches of moss growing at numerous points between the gaps of the lower section. The rope bit into her hands as she swung heavily into the posts with loud thump. Her feet scrabbled ineffectually for a moment before finally regaining some purchase.

"Quiet up there!" Joseph hissed irritably, his voice unnaturally loud in chill air.

Katarina bit back an angry reply, gripped the rope tighter in her hands and resumed pulling herself up towards the top of the stockade. Once at the top she swung a leg over, careful to keep on top of the thick cloth strap draped over the top of the stockade, and carefully lowered herself down using a second rope.

Gerard watched her vague figure disappear over the top. By now the mist had lightened sufficiently for him to see the top of the stockade but it was still quite dense. "Are you sure it's a good idea to take her along."

Rhinehardt nodded, taking the rope in his hands. "I still don't trust that elf and we can't trust the villager either. She's the only person we know who can fight and who wasn't involved with the killings last night. Personally I'll feel safer having someone around to watch my back."

"Maybe, but watch yourself out there. You're going to be effectively wandering about in the dark out there and know next to nothing about the enemy."

"Don't worry about me; you just be careful when you go searching the houses. A cornered beast is not safe to approach and if Kurzwiel is her he'll be getting desperate." With a last check on the fastenings of his bow and arrows, the warden placed both feet against the stockade and began his climb towards the top.

Gerard watched him go before turning to face Bertholdt. "You reckon they'll be all right."

"It's the best place to try this-there's some gorse bushes just outside this part of the stockade, that'll give them some cover. And the enemy is most likely watching the gates; they won't be expecting us to make a move like this."

"If their leader has any sense there will be sentries."

"The fog won't help matters; and this is beastmen we're talking about, I'd be surprised if they know how to hold a ladder, let alone organise a siege."

_People can be so naive._ Gerard kept the thought to himself. "Come on then, are you're men ready?"

"Yeah, there'll just be you, me, Alec and Murdoch-I can't spare any more men right now."

"That should suffice."

--

"Like I told you, we move two by two." Joseph dropped into a crouch, crossbow poised and ready to fire. Behind him Rhinehardt knelt low, an arrow notched to his bow, his eyes scanning the mist for any sign of movement. Pursing both hands Joseph emitted a short owl-like hoot. From their right came an answering call that signalled Katarina and their guide were moving forward.

Rhinehardt did not like this. Almost from the moment they had cleared the stockade he had been unable to shake off the feeling that they were being watched. He'd had this before, a strange tingling sensation as though the hairs on the back of his neck were all on edge. It had developed long ago during his service in the north and had saved his life from many a Kurgan ambush. He was feeling it now. And just to make things perfect he was now creeping about in practically zero visibility with a potential murderer beside him. Co_uld things get much worse?_

Joseph bit back a reprimand as the warden snapped a twig under his boot. _Humans!_These three were no different-they moved with as much stealth as an enraged bull. Beastmen were not very bright as a rule but they weren't stupid either. If a sentry was alerted by the noise they'd have the whole herd down on their heads inside an hour. Why did they have to insist on coming?-his plan could have been executed flawlessly had he come alone. No such luck!

The next hoot signalled their turn to move. Joseph kept low as he advanced, his gaze constantly alternating between the mist and the ground. Every now and then he would pause to scrutinize a mark in the earth before moving on. After a while his erratic pace began to annoy the anxious warden.

"What the devil are you doing?"

"What I came here to do-I'm looking for tracks, signs that anyone passed this way."

"Found anything yet?"

"No."

It took them over an hour to perform a complete circuit of the village. They moved backwards and forwards, never ranging more than eight meters from the stockade. At no point could Joseph or the villager currently with Katarina pick up any tracks to suggest someone had exited the village via the wall, nor that anything had come up to the village during the night. The only track they found was a single footprint about a foot from the stockade to the east of the village. The print was smaller than a human foot, was notably narrower and sprouted three clawed toes. Joseph was puzzled by this.

"Out of all the beastmen I've seen I have never once found one with clawed feet, they are always cloven hoofed."

"Then what could it be?" Rhinehardt kept his voice low.

"I don't know-these tracks are not like anything I've seen before."

"Does nothing match them?"

"There is one animal that does, but it can't be them-they never grow this big."

The two groups joined up at the gate-a challenge from the sentry was answered with the signal they had agreed with Bertholdt the night before. Joseph checked the track-way and found only the hoofmarks of the rider's horse. There were no others. He now felt certain that Kurzwiel had not left the village.

"What now." The villager, a man named Franz, sounded nervous, no doubt wishing he were back inside the security of the stockade.

"I'm going to do a sweep in that direction." Here Joseph gestured in the direction the rider would have ridden from the previous night. "Are you up for it?"

Before the man could speak Rhinehardt cut him off. "I agree, lead on."

The group split and began their careful advance once more.

--

The door gave way easily under the repeated blows, swinging back on its hinges to strike the stone wall with a clang. Bertholdt's two men tossed aside the improvised battering ram, grabbed their weapons and dashed inside, taking separate sides of the room. Bertholdt followed them, his huge axe held above his shoulder ready to strike at a moment's notice. He gestured and the bedroom door was kicked back. Both men disappeared inside. After a moment one of them re-appeared in the doorway and shook his head. "All clear here sir."

Bertholdt returned to the hut's main doorway. "He's not here!"

After a moment Gerard entered, sword in hand. "That remains to be seen. Have your men wait outside." The constable motioned and both men exited the place.

"Now what do we do?"

"Now you let me think." He cast his gaze over the room, memorizing the details and layout. The main room was about half the size of the White Hart's bar room, and just as sparsely furnished. A large stone fireplace was built into the north wall, with stone slabs covering a space some two meters by two metres around the fireplace. The rest of the floor was earth-few villagers thought to line their floors with wooden planks, an attitude that Gerard had never understood A table and two chairs were arranged on the right hand wall next to the room's only window and in one corner an old barrel had been cleaned out and now served as a storage vessel for various brooms and sticks.

The inner door opened onto a small bedroom, perhaps half the size of the main room. A crudely built wardrobe was fixed to the left wall at the foot of a single bed. Otherwise the room was bare. Krueger evidently cared little for luxury. This house had been built to serve as a simple shelter, functional in every degree. And functional could entail many different things.

--

_The soldiers fanned out on either side of the door, two per side. Behind them a dozen more armed figures kept back the crowds, ensuring there would be no large gathering for an escapee to lose himself amongst. _

_Gerard, a recent recruit to the regiment, rested his hand gingerly on the doorknob. At a signal from the trooper opposite he gently turned the knob. The door did not budge. His colleague stepped forward and both men placed their shoulders to the door. It gave way on the third try_

_Weapons in hand, the men leapt inside. They fanned out quickly, each making for cover. When nothing happened Gerard returned to the doorway and gestured. Four more soldiers entered and broke off to search the downstairs area. Gerard's group advanced up the stairs, moving two by two, throwing open doors and sweeping each room for signs of life. Gerard tried a door at the end of the landing. It opened onto a small room, evidently a child's play room. Books with coloured spines lined a set of shelves along the far wall and in the corner lay a pile of fluffy animals and wooden soldiers, complete with a carefully fashioned castle. The walls had been decorated with alphabet letters and pictures of animals and warriors from ancient tales. In the centre of the room's ceiling he made out the finely painted figure of Sigmar, the patron deity of the Empire. _

_Sometimes Gerard envied the aristocracy. Though not at all unhappy, his childhood had been a difficult phase to go through. It would have been fun to have grown up in a place such as this, surrounded by legends and stories in which to immerse himself. _

"_Attention!" The sergeant's ferocious bark jolted him out of his reverie and he snapped to attention. _

_Sergeant Helmut was a medium sized man in his late forties. His hair was greying but his complexion was well-tanned and the set of his broad shoulders radiated an air of authority that commanded respect."Report!"_

"_All clear here sir!"_

"_Private Schiller!"_

"_There's no one here Sarge!" _

"_Indeed." The sergeant strode past Gerard into the room. He studied it in detail, tapped the wall by the bookcase with the pommel of his sword and made a few experimental taps on the floorboard. Satisfied, he exited the room. "Follow me lads-let's see if you can learn something from this." _

_Private Schiller fell in behind the two of them as they advanced through the house. The sergeant tried each room in turn, always repeating the same process. He spoke as he went, though at times he seemed scarcely aware of their presence. _

"_What you have to remember lads is that people, no matter what walk of life they may come from, can be surprisingly resourceful. If they possess a place long enough and if they expect to be hunted then they are wise to construct a few bolt holes. I've seen a few in my time and they take many forms." He paused again to top a few floorboards, grunted briefly and resumed his search. _

"_They can of course take many forms, but with these wealthy folk they tend to go for secret rooms built into walls and then sealed off. As a short term retreat it's quite clever, unless the hunter knows what to look for."_

_He fell silent after this and led them through the house, inspecting each room in careful detail. After posting a couple of guards along the landing he led Gerard and Schiller down the stairs and recommenced the search. This failed to yield any results-that is until he reached the kitchen._

_A search of the pantry located a trapdoor. Lighting a torch Helmut led the two of them down a set of dark stairs into what must be the cellar. Several barrels were stacked against one wall, but otherwise the place was empty. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows over the damp walls, reminding Gerard of the dungeons beneath the count's palace. Dank and disused, he supposed if you wanted to build a bolt hole then this would be the best place._

_Helmut made a few experimental taps along the right wall, worked his way round to the back wall and then the left one. He then retraced his route, this time probing each crack and crevice. Finally he gave up. "We'll find nothing down here. Come on."_

_As they ascended the stairway Schiller whispered "Looks like he's given us the slip." _

"_We'll see about that recruit." Gerard grinned at the expression that appeared on his colleague's face. Those who paid attention quickly learnt that Sergeant Helmut had the ears of a fox._

_The sergeant returned to the dining room, pushed aside the table in the centre of the room and tapped the floor with the toe of his boot. He nodded, raised an arm and motioned to Gerard. "Recruit-tell the corporal to bring his hammer in here would you." _

--

That had been eighteen years ago and yet he still remembered it clearly. When the floorboards had been lifted they had found their targets-a young man of Kislev descent and his wife. They had been tipped off about the search just before the troop arrived and had hidden themselves under the floorboards. It had been a very simple hiding place and one that might have worked but for the sergeant.

Gerard smiled. The old man had taught him many things during his time in the militia, skills that later enabled him to find employment as a road warden, skills that had saved his life many times, skills that might yet prove useful.

He returned to the main room. There were no signs of a concealed pit. There were plenty of footprints imprinted into the dirt floor, but that did not mean anything. No floorboards and no trapdoors-nothing except...

His gaze was drawn to the stonework around the fireplace. It was eight slabs long and the same in width. They were not especially large, but wide enough for a man to place both feet on comfortably. He leant down and scrutinised the stonework carefully. Just visible were the dirt marks of a set of footprints. They appeared to criss-cross across the slabs, ending somewhere in the centre. He also noticed that whilst the gaps between the outer slabs were encrusted with dirt, the gaps separating the four central ones were comparatively...empty.

A grin played across his lips. "Constable" he gestured Bertholdt forward. "Have your men bring their axes here could you." _And they say fortune is fickle_.

--

Joseph brushed his fingers over the tracks, testing their depth and examining the spread and texture of the soil. "No more than one day old."

Katarina crouched nearby, examining another set of tracks. "And hooves I see. Lends some credit to this beastman theory, wouldn't you agree?"

"Does it, don't jump to conclusions."

Katarina and the villager had found the tracks-three sets of them in all. The third set was a few feet from their current position. All the impressions were circular in shape and they all led away from the clearing into the wood. Although they could probably be followed amidst the undergrowth none of the four wished to attempt this under the present circumstances.

Rhinehardt glanced down at him "What do you mean-are you saying we're not dealing with beastmen-these things walked on two feet, how many hoofed beings do you know that do that?"

"I only interpret what I see. Two of these creatures were on two legs but this one" he gestured to the tracks he had been examining. "These were made by a four legged creature. And look at the shape of the footprints. In those two sets you can see the hooves split at the front, the standard shape of a beast man's hoof, but in this set the hooves are fused into one. No beastman I have seen possessed this feature."

"What are you implying?" Katarina's cool gaze met his own. Despite her frosty demeanour he could see the effects his words had wrought-the situation was developing beyond what any of them had expected.

"Only that something with the same hooves and gait as a horse was present here at the same time as the beastmen."

"It could be the rider's horse."

"I don't think so-beastmen do not keep horses, they just feast on them when the battle's over. And see here." He led them away a short distance. "See this. The two sets run side by side up to this point, then we see only four legged creature leaving this place. I think..." he stooped over for a closer examination. "Yes, it was carrying something when it left."

"Carrying the beastman?" from her tone it was clear Katarina did not entirely believe him.

"The tracks indicate as much. But this does not make sense-beastmen do not do this."

"Beastmen or not, we know something's been out here recently, and it's not human. I think we've tarried long enough."

"Agreed, can we please go back now?" Franz was clearly wishing he was anywhere but here.

"Allright, allright we'll go."

Joseph led them back to the gate. A few sharp raps alerted the sentry and after a brief exchange the gates creaked open to admit them.

As he approached the gate Rhinehardt happened to glance up. He hadn't noticed it before, but now the mist was thinning he could make out a thin wooden shaft protruding from the woodwork. He reached up, pulled it loose and examined it closely. _This is strange._

He glanced back at the woodland, the trees now just visible through the diminishing mist. He still felt it, that strange sensation of being watched by concealed eyes. Suppressing a shudder he slipped through the opening and the gatekeeper slid the bolts back into place with a sense of relief.

TBC.

--

Well this is interesting-what do these tracks mean? And what is it Gerard has found in Kurzwiel's house? Hopefully get the next chapter up soon, but I am going to busy this week.


	14. Disagreements

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer of Games Workshop-if I did I'd be able to make up my own characters and use them in games without needing my opponents consent!

--

Kurzwiel's head jerked back and then sagged forward, blood flowing from his swollen nose. Bertholdt drew back his huge fist for another blow. Gerard's fingers clasped his wrist in a firm grip.

"That will do for now I think." He turned to the fugitive. Kurzwiel was in the middle of the hut's main kitchen, slumped in a chair. Both hands were tied securely behind his back and both feet were fastened to the chair legs. Slowly, painfully, he raised his head and met Gerard's eyes. The man's upper lip had been split open and his right eye was beginning to blacken.

"I take no pleasure from this, tell us what we want to know and it will stop." He kept his tone low and steady. His expression was polite, almost friendly.

Kurzwiel was silent for a moment and then spat defiantly, the gesture saying more than any words.

"This is getting us nowhere warden; we need to step up the persuasion."

"You have something with mind?"

"I can get him talking if you wish, but it will involve some...unsavoury methods."

"You can't!" Kurzwiel's voice was now laced with a mixture of contempt and uncertainty. "He is an officer of the law, and Krueger told me all about you constable-you don't have the stomach for torture."

Berthold grinned. "Are you sure about that?"

The door of the hut creaked open before a reply was given. Joseph strode into the room, crossbow held loosely in his left hand. Next to enter were Katarina and Rhinehardt. The elf surveyed the scene before him coolly. "I see you've been successful."

"I had a stroke of luck."

"In my experience there's no such thing as luck."

Rhinehardt cut in before the conversation could develop further. "Where was he hiding?"

In response Gerard gestured to a hole in the centre of the hearth-four of the stone slabs had been removed to expose a crude hole dug into the earth. It was small, just large enough for two men to stand up in and barely wide enough for them both. The pole placed in the centre to hold up the stones would not have helped. Still one had to admit it had made a good hiding place.

"You knew he would be here didn't you?"

"I suspected it-after all where better to hide than where you're enemies least expect you."

Katarina had been silent up to this point, but now she took the opportunity to broach a subject that had begun to weigh on her mind. "As you apprehended this man I trust you will remember our bargain gentlemen."

Rhinehardt gave an irritated snort. "I'm a man of my word miss; you will have the bounty as agreed."

Joseph glanced at him sharply. "Agreement. Why was I was not made aware of this?"

"It was not your concern elf."

The elf's eyes narrowed noticeably at this. "You made a deal with my rival and went hunting for our target when I was out of the village. Forgive me if I feel somewhat...slighted!"

Gerard could see trouble brewing and was quick to stamp on it. "That is enough! Sorry you missed your chance Joseph but my colleague is right. Our agreement with Miss Grenfell was made before we met you. You will recall that we offered you the same chance to work with us and you refused. It is neither her fault nor ours that she displayed a greater foresight."

For an instant it seemed that Joseph would pursue the argument, but suddenly his shoulders relaxed and he dropped his gaze. "You are...correct human. I suppose I must accept that."

Bertholdt's boot tapped the ground impatiently. "Well now that little drama is over with perhaps we could return to the matter at hand."

Rhinehardt glanced from the constable to his colleague. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so. We apprehended him, but he does not have the item. We've searched this place and the barn from top to bottom but we've found no trace of it."

"Nor will you. I've put it somewhere safe. Search all you want you will never find it." Kurzwiel's voice was lower now but his defiance had by no means diminished.

Joseph knelt before the prisoner so that they were eye to eye. "Has he told you anything?"

"No. We've been trying for half an hour but he won't talk."

"And I" Bertholdt chimed in "was just suggesting we try some harsher methods."

"You reckon you can get him to talk?"

"Sure, just give me enough time."

"Good luck trying. I've survived capture at the hands of the Kurgans. You won't break me."

"He has a point. This man doesn't look the type to break under pressure." Joseph scratched his chin and tilted his head slightly; he looked like a herbalist studying an interesting specimen.

"You don't know what I can do elf."

"I can guess constable. But the package is the real bounty and he is not worth much without it. I assume the wardens here would like it found as soon as possible."

Gerard nodded his affirmation.

"Then give me an hour. He'll be singing like a songbird when I'm done."

"You think you can do a better job than the constable?"

"It will be more brutal than I would like, but yes I know I can."

"And what exactly do you stand to gain from this?"

"In return for my assistance I want sixty per cent of the bounty"

"And yet you'll only get thirty. THAT is non-negotiable." His tone of voice made it clear he would brook no arguments.

"Deal." Joseph guessed this was as good an offer as he was going to get. He saw the outraged look appear on Katarina's face. "Now don't look so miffed my lady; you stand to make a greater profit if I succeed. And if I don't then you've lost nothing."

Katarina breathed in deeply to calm herself. She could certainly see the truth in the elf's words but still could not shake off the feeling that she had been cheated out of something.

"Close the shutters and leave us." When the others had left Joseph reached into his pocket and retrieved a candle. This he laid upon the table, muttered an incantation under his breath and lit the wick with a small flame. Preparations done, he turned to the prisoner. "Now let us talk."

--

By now the mist had all but dissipated. The sun shone brightly, though its rays could not banish the chill that lingered on the air. Bertholdt scarcely noticed it as he strode down the path towards the gate. As he approached he was greeted by a weary looking young man whom he recognised as the gatekeeper's son.

"Make your report lad."

Michael paused to rub the tiredness from his eyes. "All quiet sir. If there's anything out there it's not come near us."

"And have the pigeons been despatched like I ordered."

"Yes sir. We sent them all out at first light. Hopefully they will reach the city any day now."

"Very good lad. Get some rest boy, you certainly look like you need it."

"Yes sir."

Bertholdt resumed his journey. _Well_ he thought. _Hopefully they should arrive soon._

--

TBC.


	15. Musings and Reminiscences

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games workshop and am not gaining any financial profits from this story.

--

"So that makes it what," Katarina stood up wearily and stretched, "over an hour and a half? I thought he said he'd be done in an hour."

"True." Gerard inhaled deeply on the clay stem of his pipe, paused to savour the taste then slowly exhaled, expelling the smoke in a single diminishing cloud that finally dissipated into the air. "But I find interrogations often last longer than you expect. Give him time, he'll let us know when the job's done."

"I think you mean _if_ he gets the job done."

"Either way we'll know soon enough." He took another draught of the pipe. "Mind you, if I was in there I reckon I'd probably wish for another interrogator. There's something about that elf that makes me..." he left the sentence hanging in the air.

"Well mate that makes two of us."

Gerard glanced down at his colleague. Rhinehardt lay down on the grass, legs crossed and head pillowed on one hand. His hat was draped down over his face, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. He held his pipe in the other hand, occasionally guiding the stem underneath the brim to take a drag. "I wondered why you didn't object to letting him conduct the interrogation."

"I considered doing so, but I figured we had nothing to lose."

"True."

The three of them waited in silence for a while, the only sounds being the distant ones of villagers bustling about making preparations for the coming night.

It was Katarina who ventured to break the silence. "It's good to see they take this matter seriously."

"The beastmen?" Rhinehardt's hat dipped slightly as he nodded. "I suppose it keeps them occupied if nothing else. But I don't think we need worry too much. From what we saw the band cannot be that large. Undermanned as we are I reckon we would have a decent chance against such a small force."

"I agree with that. Let's not forget these are beastmen we are talking about. They may be very savage fighters but I've heard they have no concept of siege warfare. With strengthened defences we could deal quite comfortably with such a band."

"If you believe that then you are both fools. I have faced these creatures before and I can tell you now they are neither as primitive nor as dull-witted as you believe. If they are intent on assault then we will have good reason to be worried. If the force is larger than a mere band then I suggest you both start praying."

"You're jumping the crossbow a little miss." Gerard's voice retained its confident manner. "This place has reasonable defences-all we need do is keep them off the parapet and we can shoot them down at our leisure."

"Reasonable defences! Have either one of you seen beastmen at a siege?"

"Once," Rhinehardt lifted his hat and glanced up at her, "three years back I was part of an outpost garrison. We were assailed by a chaos war band that included beastmen but they posed us no problem. The beastmen could not get over the stockade-the only ones who did scale it were the band's marauders and we quickly beat them back."

"Was the outpost better defended than this place?"

"Not by much."

"And was it better manned than this place?"

"We had about fifteen more men than we have here."

"Then you were lucky. I have seen these creatures at work and I tell you now they can master siege warfare-they are certainly capable of making and climbing ladders and that's all they really need here."

Gerard regarded her with new interest. "You've fought them before. You never mentioned this."

Katarina moved her shoulders in what might have been a shrug. "No it..."

--

_The images flashed through her mind again-an isolated village, a remote winter setting. The Kislev inhabitants battled desperately to stem the tide that threatened to overwhelm their defences. Many beastmen had been shot down before they had reached the ditch. More had died as they had tried to breach this first line of defence-pierced by arrows or impaled on the sharpened stakes that lined the ditch. It was a common belief amongst those in the southern imperial provinces that chaos beasts were too volatile and unskilled to conduct sieges unless under the command of a chaos champion. Those who lived in the north, and in particular the Kisletives, had learnt the falsehood of this belief long ago. _

_The attack the village now faced was well-planned. Two main waves of chaos beasts made simultaneous charges on opposite sides of the stockade, attempting to split the defender's forces. In both attacks the wave was preceded by a large pack of mutated hounds. Knowing these monsters could not scale the stockade, the boyars commanding the walls ordered their men to hold fire until the main force came within range. Then as the hounds began to rend and claw at the stakes lining the ditch the threat they posed was realised and fire was opened. The hounds paid little heed to the arrows but were quickly cut down. _

_Then the main assault had come. The smaller Ungors led the way, shields raised in an effort to ward off the storm of arrows. Behind the arrow fodder came the larger Gors, brandishing weapons and bellowing fearsome war-cries as they charged after their smaller brethren._

_Despite the bow fire and the ditch most of the horde made it to the stockade. Ladders were thrown up and the beasts clambered up clumsily. The men of the village were well trained in combat, each a full Kossar in his own right. Singing lustily they swung their great two-handed axes back and forth, severing heads and sending ladders crashing to the floor. So well had they fought that it seemed the tide had turned. However the beastmen's numbers allowed them to soak up the casualties and they came on. Soon footholds had been gained on the walls and the defenders had been pushed back._

_The Boyars had bellowed the signal and the men retreated to the inner sanctum. A precaution designed by the villagers in the event of a breach, it was effectively a stockade within a stockade and now represented their last hope. _

_Atop the parapet Katarina awaited the signal. A solid thump announced the doorway had been closed. Rising from cover she sighted her bow and fired, catching a beastman below the armpit. More arrows fanned out into the inrushing horde that had scaled the outer stockade. The pounding of feet behind her announced the arrival of the Kossars and she risked a glance. There were not many left, the attack had certainly been vicious. Heavily outnumbered from the start, casualties had been inevitable _

_Fear clutched at her chest as she failed to spot Ragnar amongst them. She scanned the wall desperately but could not see him._

_The thump of a ladder hitting the stockade directly in front of her diverted her attention. She leaned over and fired. The impact hurled the ascending Gor from its post. Beside her Sylvia leaned over and upended a saucepan of boiling water onto the beasts. Roars of agony rose in reply..._

--

Katarina shook her head to clear the memories. "It's not something I wish to talk about. "

"Fair enough, but may I suggest you talk to Bertholdt when we've finished here. You're knowledge of these creatures may be of some use. Perhaps if you can tell us how they may react or what sort we may be dealing with."

"As you wish I will speak with him when we are done here and not before."

"Suit yourself."

Silence descended again as the three of them returned to their own thoughts.

Rhinehardt laid his pipe aside, sat up and began to re-examine the object he had recovered from the gate. As he had suspected it was a wooden shaft tipped with an iron arrowhead. The make of the shaft showed it to have been carefully carved and the head was well made. This point he raised with the others.

Gerard was surprised at this. "I thought chaos beasts did not use missile weapons."

"They don't, or at least I've certainly never seen them doing so. Have you miss?"

No I haven't. In my county there are humans that worship the gods of chaos, those whom you refer to as marauders. These men have been known to make use of primitive bows but they are the exception to the rule. The chaos creatures favour close combat over ranged warfare-it gives them a better chance to display their strength and fighting prowess."

"Then how did this get here? It could only have been fired by those who attacked the rider last night."

"What are you saying Rhinehardt-you think we may have marauders to deal with as well?"

"I don't know, but this is unknown territory and I don't like it. Missile weapons and playing a waiting game, this is not how I expect beasts of chaos to behave."

Gerard sighed and took a deep draft of his pipe. _I shall feel a great deal easier when that damned column arrives._ He refused to acknowledge the next thought that crossed his mind.

_If it arrives_.

Rhinehardt must have guessed his thoughts. "Don't worry. Things have been quiet round here and the Burgomaster still has most of his garrison available. I'm sure he can spare some troops."

"I hope your right." Gerard was not so sure. The truth was that the empire had, over the last couple of generations, become more and more difficult to manage. Civil unrest was becoming an increasing problem. There were many causes attributed to this.

First was the harvests-the last few years had not been very productive and many farmers were protesting at having to pay high taxes when they could barely grow enough to support their families. Huddled in their walled towns and cities, the counts and their officials seemed largely indifferent to the problem and this attitude was sparking increasing anger amongst their subjects.

This had not been helped by the Emperor Ludwig-known far and wide as Ludwig the Fat-who, only five months previously, had granted a vast piece of land to the Halfling populace of Empire. Known as the Mootland, or Moot, it encompassed land from both Stirland and Averland. This had sparked outrage from both the Elector Counts and the populace.

The former did not welcome the idea of a Halfling seer sitting on the imperial council, or the loss of land from their provinces. The latter were unhappy because in their view the land was rightfully theirs. With the prospect of famine looming they feared the loss of the rich agricultural plains. Halflings were great farmers but their food rarely went to anyone else. Although the Halfling presence in that area had been growing stronger there were a number of human settlers within its borders, most of who were now being compelled to move out. The emperor, enamoured by Halfling cooking, seemed largely indifferent to these concerns.

Other factors were also contributing. Attacks by beastmen and orcs seemed to be on the increase, with a number of raids reported on villages and isolated dwellings. Those most at risk were the villagers living close to the forest where these creatures made their hiding places, meaning that Northern provinces such as Ostermark with their thick forest covering were receiving the worst of it.

To make matters worse there was talk of several outbreaks of plague in the east. Rumours abounded that it had sprung up in the Border Princes and Tilea. Travellers reported the outbreaks to have been successfully contained but this did little to allay the fears of the populace. Plagues had hit the empire before and the cost in lives had often been high.

These factors blended together to form a nervous and discontented populace who were beginning to make their discontent felt. In some places this had simply taken the form of protests and abuse being targeted at imperial officials. In more extreme cases villagers had refused to pay their taxes. Some had gone so far as to attack and rob tax payers who demanded their money, prompting the Elector Counts and Burgomasters to take stronger measures. Just to make matters perfect more people were seeking to supplement their earnings through illegal means, ranging from livestock rustling to forming bandit war bands. All this was stretching existing military strength severely and making it difficult to cover all areas of the provinces.

They would just have to hope that the Burgomaster, ignorant of their recent acquisition, would consider their situation a priority.

_Why did that idiot Bertholdt have to send ALL the pigeons off this morning? One would have been sufficient._ The man had explained that the uncertainty of using pigeons and the urgency of their position made it necessary to use all of them to ensure one got through. Gerard shook his head-the reply had made little sense to him.

--

The hut door opened and Joseph stepped out, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. His face was grim. "He has talked."

TBC.

--

OOC: In case anyone has been wandering about the timeline of this story, it is set during the reign of the Emperor Ludwig the Fat, which took place in the Imperial Years 1000-1053 (roughly 1449 years before the reign of Karl Franz.) assuming I have read the Empire rule book correctly. I do not know exactly when the Moot was granted to the Halflings but I am setting this around the year 1025, midway through Ludwig's reign.


	16. The Fugitive's Tale

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and their products and I am getting no financial gains from this.

--

"So what did he say?"

For a moment Joseph seemed not to have heard the question. He walked past them slowly, gaze fixed squarely ahead. His frame was tense, betraying something akin to anger. His hand reached back to clasp the hilt of his sword. Drawing the curved blade, he continued his march.

"Oi elf!" now Rhinehardt's voice took on an angry tone, "I asked you what he said."

Still there was no response. Joseph kept walking until he came to a pile of logs leaning against the wall of the nearest hut. Selecting one, he tossed it into the air. His sword flashed as it swung upwards. Splinters flew as the wood was split clean in two, both halves landing either side of him. He repeated the manoeuvre twice in rapid succession. This done he made a series of rapid swipes with the blade, finally dropping into a stance and raising it before his face in a duellist's salute. Only then did he turn to meet their gazes.

"I feel better now."

"Judging by that performance I take it you were not successful," Katarina crossed her arms with what might have been a smirk.

"Quite the reverse woman-didn't you hear what I said?"

"Then why the display?" This time it was Gerard who spoke.

The elf glanced around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. "Brace yourselves, I guarantee you are not going to like this."

"Well then tell us," Rhinehardt's impatience was beginning to show.

"Well then, let's start from the beginning...and don't worry, he's alive and well...for the most part." He had just noticed Gerard glancing uneasily at the hut door.

"I should certainly hope so."

"He's little use to me dead human."

--

Now as you all know he was entrusted with this mission by the Burgomaster. It was to have been a simple trip-apparently an agent in Talabheim was making arrangements to have the package transported to a village named Duroch-it's located in the shadow of a set of elven ruins which lie to the far east of Talabheim. His orders were to rendezvous with the agents, deliver their payment and return to Talabheim with all possible speed."

"Sounds like a straightforward job," Gerard mused.

"Yes that's why he never questioned it. Apparently the Burgomaster has sent him on missions like this before so there seemed to be nothing unusual. His suspicions were aroused later that night in the Burgomaster's private garden's..."

Rhinehardt cut him off. "What was he doing there?"

Joseph rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes momentarily. "One rule-do not interrupt me or I'm saying nothing more."

"Sorry."

"Now where was I?"

"He was in the garden."

"Oh yes, well as I was saying he apparently enjoys the peace of the gardens. They are large and rather overgrown and he feels more at home there. Anyway he had sneaked inside later that night when the Burgomaster and his chief officer came in. Naturally he didn't want to get caught so he hid. They were out of earshot for most of the time but when they retired they passed close enough for him to hear some of the conversation. Something about how if _it_ was successful then it would provide the perfect means to deal with the Katzenbolah family."

Gerard's eyes widened in surprise, "You don't mean the aristocrats?"

"I see you've heard of them."

"Who hasn't heard of them?" The Katzenbolah's were one of the oldest noble families in Ostermark. They held vast lands and in their quest for greater political influence had recently turned their attentions to Mordheim. Their activities in the capitol were increasingly bringing them into conflict with local officials like the Burgomaster. "Things had been escalating between them and the Mordheim officials; in fact we've recently had to break up several brawls."

"It's going to get much more serious than a few brawls. Seems the Burgomaster had something special planned. At the time Kurzwiel didn't think much of what he heard; after all it was probably something unrelated to his mission, so he set out the next morning as planned. He was accompanied by a small group of outrider's for the first half of the journey. After that he went on alone-apparently it was felt a loan rider would attract less attention. He made the journey without incident and arrived at the village eight days after setting out."

"Now it seems that he became suspicious when he entered the village-it was still midday but there was hardly anyone about. Moreover he saw signs of recent neglect, such as thatched roofs that were in severe need of repair and half-cut logs that had been left to gather moss. Now I know that Talabacland is by no means a poor province and I think you will agree it is unlikely that the villagers would have wilfully allowed their homes to fall into ruin."

"I've been around a bit," Rhinehardt admitted, "and I agree if you see a village in that state it usually means there's something amiss. Was it a large village?"

"No it was about the same size as this one except that it had no inn, being somewhat distant from the main roads. But it was populated, he had been told as much before he set out."

"And you say it was deserted?"

"He thought that at first, apparently he was going to investigate further when he noticed a strange smell-some kind of putrefying stench that wafted to him on the air. Then he spotted someone lying against the wall by one of the huts. He checked on the man but found he was dead, and that is when he panicked because he saw what had killed the man."

"What was that?"

"He said the corpse had not decayed greatly and he reckons it could not have been dead for more than a day, although the weather was cold and may have slowed the decay. He was dressed in fairly smart clothes and must have been someone of importance." Here the elf paused as though considering how to phrase his next words. "The tongue and the skin around the face were black and there were swellings around the neck which were still dripping pus and blood. I think you can all guess what produces those signs"

He paused to gage their reactions, watching their expression slowly change as they registered the meaning of this revelation. Finally Gerard spoke.

"You mean...plague?"

"Yes. It would seem it has finally come to the Empire."

"Oh Sigmar...what...we..." the warden seemed to be struggling with this news. Joseph didn't blame him. He had seen too many plagues in his time; had experienced the effects first hand and knew how quickly they could spread. A sizeable epidemic could devastate entire kingdoms and decimate the population. Not for nothing did men quail in terror at the prospect of this disease.

"So he..." a look of concern entered Gerard's eyes, "Wait a moment, if he..."

"He does not have it," Joseph kept his tone calm and reassuring, "I checked him for symptons and he has none-believe me if he had contracted the plague it would be showing by now."

"How can you be so sure elf?"

"Because I have seen the plague he described, I recognise its symptons and I know it does not take this long to manifest. If he did have the disease we would know about it."

"You've seen it before?"

"Yes. A long time ago, before any of you were born." He noticed their expressions. "I am a lot older than I look you know."

"What do you mean by this form?"

Joseph was not at all surprised at their ignorance-most of the so-called doctors in the Old World had a limited knowledge of disease and knew little about of how to treat it. Their skills had frequently proved inadequate in the face of such epidemics. There was, he reflected, much that humanity could learn from his own people.

"You humans tend to speak of plague as though it were one entity." This was not entirely true-the nobility and the more learned classes were aware of the various strands of plague, especially the physicians of Araby, but the peasants either remained ignorant or otherwise cared little for the differences. "There are different types in this world. They vary in both symptons and severity. The one he describes is, I am afraid, very severe."

"If what you say is true then we must get word out, inform the Elector Count of Talabacland-he must be made aware of this."

"I agree my friend, but for now we should concentrate on matters at hand," Rhinehardt drew attention back the original topic, "could you please continue elf?"

"As you wish human. As I was saying once he realised what was going on Kurzwiel decided to get out of there quickly. He had mounted his horse and was about to ride out when a man with a crossbow blocked his path and identified himself as the agent. He demanded his payment as agreed. Kurzwiel tossed it to him and the stranger tossed him a small sack in exchange, warning him not to open it. Once this was done he limped off into one of the huts. Kurzwiel says he would have liked to have opened the package then and there but his sense of duty prevailed. So he collected it, rode out of the village and did not stop riding until the next day dawned."

"He rode hard each day and made it to the border without incident, but once he reached the river he was waylaid by a trio of brigands. They overpowered him, tied him up and left him to die. After a few hours he managed to work free of his bonds and pursued them. He came upon their campsite two days later and attempted to regain the package. When he found the robbers they were all dead. Every one of them had died of the plague."

"You mean it's started spreading?"

"There's more to it than that. He had got a clear look at them two days previously and they were all healthy, yet now they all looked just as bad as the body he had seen at Duroch. There is no chance they could have developed those symptons in such a short time. What's more he managed to get a look at the package, which the robbers had opened. It was a wooden box like the one I was given. The object it contained was a green gemstone about half the size of its container, a gem that radiated a very faint light from within. What's more, one of the robbers was still clutching it. The hand that held it had swollen far worse than any of the others-and the swelling seemed to decrease as it went further up the arm."

"What are you saying? You're not suggesting that..." Gerard's eyes had widened considerably at this fresh revelation.

"As I said before I am simply going by what he told me. He concluded, as I think you have, that the gem itself was what had caused this. Somehow it must hold the power to unleash a form of plague. That's when he got to thinking, suddenly what he had heard in the Burgomaster's garden made a lot of sense. The man must be planning to use it to dispose of his rivals, namely the Katzenbolah's."

"That is ridiculous..." Rhinehardt's tone held a note of outrage but Joseph cut him off again.

"Don't interrupt, I will finish this story and then we can discuss things. As I was saying he concluded this and after careful thought he formed a new plan. First he managed to close the box and then he burned the bodies as best he could. He resolved not to hand the item over-after all were it to be used for such a purpose the consequences could have been disastrous."

"Instead he decided to come to this village. He had a cousin who had set up residence here two years ago and knew he could rely on his support. He took a roundabout route to avoid any of the Burgomaster's men, there was certain to be a search mounted once he failed to show. Once he reached here he planned to lie low for a few days. There is, or rather was, a temple of Sigmar within four days ride of here and he planned to raise the matter with the priest whom he knew him to be a good man with experience at dealing with such matters. He was certain that the priest would know what to do."

Gerard nodded slowly. "I'll bet it upset his plans when he found out the place was looted and burnt down over two weeks ago."

"It did. Remember you suspected he may have departed with that caravan of travellers; well you were right although he took care to make sure no one saw him leave. He rode with them for several days and during this time he learnt what had happened to the temple. He was trying to decide what to do next when the caravan was attacked. They had ridden into a narrow valley surrounded by trees when they were ambushed. Many were cut down by bow fire before the attackers came out and by then they were badly outnumbered. He realised he could do nothing and decided to escape."

"Somehow he evaded them and made his way back here. He got in undetected but then you," he nodded to Katarina, "turned up and drove him into hiding. He's been lying low since then, trying to work out what to do. Then we showed up and he grew desperate. If we found him then he would certainly fall into the Burgomaster's clutches. It seems he was planning to make a break for it tonight, but Gerard here appears to have ruined his plans. That's the story in, how do you say, a nutshell."

Gerard and Rhinehardt exchanged glances. They were clearly sceptical about the truth of this tale. Rhinehardt made his scepticism evident. "You have to admit this is all very far-fetched. If he speaks the truth then why did he not make for the proper authorities and hand the gem over?"

"Why do you think human?-because he doesn't trust bureaucrats. Even if he could get them to believe him what would keep them from seeking to use it for their own ends. Things are unstable everywhere and every politician from the elector counts downwards is doing his utmost to gain from this. He was not prepared to take that risk."

Gerard narrowed his eyes at this. "You're not seriously saying you believe him?"

"I do. As I said before I've been around a long time. I have a knack for detecting when I'm being lied to and my gut feeling is that he speaks the truth."

"How did you get all this out of him-it's been less than two hours since he was refusing to give any information at all?"

"I used an old trick, one I do not care to discuss so don't ask any more."

"I don't like to admit this elf," here Katarina added her voice to the discussion, "but what you say does make some sense."

Gerard shook his head, "I cannot believe this-we are talking about the Burgomaster..."

"Don't be naive!" The bounty hunter made no effort to disguise her irritation, "it would certainly explain the man's insistence on secrecy."

"That man is an elected official..."

"That man is highly ambitious and more underhanded than you think. I'll bet I know him better than any of you and I tell you now I wouldn't put it past him. If word gets out about this then he's finished."

"Well in that case, what on earth do we do now?"

For the first time that day Rhinehardt's inscrutable expression broke into one of amazement. "What do you mean 'what do we do?' We have orders to follow my friend, orders to return that gem to the Burgomaster and that is what must do."

"Good little soldiers always obey the general," Katarina's voice was full of contempt, "I expected nothing less but you are both ignoring a serious threat. If the Burgomaster gets hold of this he may well try to use it for his own ends and..."

Rhinehardt cut her off. "There is no proof of that; all we have to go on is the word of a renegade. The man could well be lying to save his own skin, and even if he speaks the truth about the gem, who is to say his intentions are as noble as he claims. More likely he decided to use the gem for his own ends. And just because the Burgomaster wants this gem does not mean he planned to use it. The conversation Kurzwiel claims to have overheard could have had any number of meanings; and for all we know the Burgomaster may simply be intent on destroying the gem, of ending a blasphemy against Sigmar."

"Then why the secrecy warden? And why the lack of protection? Even if it was deemed necessary to keep the matter quiet why entrust the job to one man when it would make better sense to send a full patrol? The fact it was almost lost to bandits proves this."

Gerard nodded slowly. "I admit that is suspicious, but not conclusive."

Katarina ran he hands through her hair with a sigh of exasperation. "Nonetheless I must urge you to consider this matter further. If what he is saying is true then the realm itself may be in danger. Have either of you ever seen a plague? Well I have-I watched it spread through my village; I barely survived the ravages myself. I have witnessed what happens when the disease gets a foothold; it can very rarely be contained."

"I do agree," she continued, "that the Burgomaster probably does not plan to decimate the Empire or the province, after all he has nothing to gain such an action. Perhaps he just hopes to blackmail the Katzenbolah family, or more likely he hopes to use the gem to dispose of his rivals and leave it at that. But it won't end there-once the plague gets loose it will spread. Before we know what's happening we'll be up to our necks in bodies. The dead will outnumber the living. I've seen this once and I will NOT allow it to happen again."

"What do you mean by that miss?"

"I'm simply saying, MR Rhinehardt, that I would _prefer _it if you would consider investigating this further."

All this time Joseph had simply stood aside with arms folded, apparently content to observe the flow of the conversation. Gerard had not failed to notice this. "You're rather quiet elf, what is your opinion on this?"

Joseph shrugged. "I am a professional who has been paid to bring in a bounty, and that is what I plan to do. What happens after that is not my concern."

"How very noble of you," Katarina sneered.

"It rarely pays to be noble in this world my lady. Being a bounty hunter yourself you should have learnt that by now."

She held his gaze. "Don't call me that."

He shrugged again, "As you wish."

"Nonetheless, what is your opinion?" Gerard pressed his earlier question.

"My opinion? My opinion, as I have said, is that he speaks the truth. I also believe that Miss Grenfell's suggestion holds a certain merit. It sounds very much like the thinking of a politician to me. She is also right about what will happen if the gem is used-nature cannot be controlled by mortals."

"Indeed." Gerard sighed warily, bowing his head as though beneath a great weight. He was silent for a moment, and then straightened up. "We cannot leave this village until the column comes. Assuming at least one pigeon reaches the town that could take the best part of a week. While we are here I suggest we use that time to investigate this matter further." He raised a hand in response to Rhinehardt's unvoiced protest, "I know our orders my friend but it can do us no harm to look into this whilst we are here. Will you at least agree to that?"

"Hmmph, I suppose we have nothing to lose."

"And what if he is telling the truth warden? What will you do then?" Katarina voiced the question that had been on everyone's mind.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Meanwhile I think we have allowed ourselves to get sidetracked form the main issue at hand here. Joseph, did you manage to find out where the package is?"

"I did, although that may be a lie. Kurzwiel is not a weak willed man and if someone is determined then it takes a while to break them. I have not had as much time as I would have liked."

"So you don't know for sure?"

"For certain no. We won't know that until we search the position he gave me." He glanced up at the sky. By now it was late into the afternoon and darkness was descending, enhanced by a heavily overcast sky. "Unfortunately it's in the forest, a good way from here."

"Strange place to conceal such an object don't you think?"

"Not really-less chance someone would find it accidentally. And of course the beastmen were not around when he hid it." _As far as we know_.

Rhinehardt grunted irritably, "I thought you said you could make him talk in one hour."

"Then I exaggerated somewhat. And he proved tougher than I thought. I can break him but it will take longer."

"Will you try again?"

"No not tonight. I suggest we let him worry about his fate. Lock him up somewhere and if the weather permits then we can see about checking that place in the morning. If he's lying I'll have a stronger position to go on."

Gerard nodded in agreement. "We'll keep him in that storeroom at the inn; it'll be easier to keep an eye on him there." He glanced around at the others. "If no one has any further questions I suggest we keep ourselves busy until tomorrow."

"As you wish, I'll leave him in your hands." Joseph walked off in the direction of the inn.

Rhinehardt watched him go. "I'll find the constable and get him to take the prisoner up to inn. Are you okay to watch him till then?"

"Not a problem. Don't be too long though, I need a drink."

"Sure." Rhinehardt took his leave.

Once he was out of earshot Katarina turned to Gerard. "You cannot avoid this issue, no matter how much you wish to. What do you intend to do if Kurzwiel is telling the truth?"

"I don't know. As I said I'll deal with that when we come to it."

She rolled her eyes irritably. "I hope your colleague has more guts than this. One thing I cannot stand is someone who shirks their responsibilities."

"Hey!" Gerard's temper flared, stung by this accusation of cowardice, "I am a servant of the Imperial government and I have my duty to perform. I don't expect a bounty hunter to understand that!"

She snorted in reply. "Duty makes a fine shield I'll grant you."

"At the end of the day I have my orders woman."

"Any fool can obey an order; a smart person knows when to disobey an order for the greater good. I suggest you keep that in mind if you want to survive in this world. Now if you'll excuse me I think I'll go and give the villagers that talk about siege warfare you suggested." She turned on her heel and strode off.

Gerard watched her go. _Women!_

--

Unseen behind a nearby hut, Bertholdt watched the woman depart. _Now this is interesting_. Checking the coast was clear, he slipped off into the shadows of the nearby huts and was soon lost from view.

--

OOC: Whew! This story is getting really big-I'm now having to look back at previous chapters to remind myself what has happened.


	17. The Gentle Breeze

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer and Games workshop and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story-it's just for fun.

OOC: I know this chapter is short, but some events work best alone and simply cannot be stretched out.

--

The sun was just beginning its descent, its rays now turning to a deeper shade of yellow. The village was taking on a more deserted appearance as its inhabitants headed into their huts for the evening, leaving only the various sentries to man their posts along the stockade wall.

All signs pointed to it being a peaceful night. In the woodland the shadows of the trees were growing darker and the birds were chirping their final song to greet the approaching dusk. The air was calm and chilled, the only sound being a few dead leaves stirred by the calmest of breezes.

Several feet into the trees, out of sight of the sentries in the watchtower, a tall figure studied the settlement with cold eyes. It shifted its stance, snapping a twig beneath its cloven hooves. Rough fingers reached up to scratch irritably at an itch in the thick dark brown hair. A series of light thuds to its left announced the approach of another figure. This one was a good foot shorter, covered in pale fur and sprouted a shorter pair of straight horns. Like the first figure it was dressed in rather tatty, weatherworn clothes. A single-handed axe hung loosely from a worn leather holdall around its waist and a small dagger was lashed to its left forearm.

"Isss it time yet bosss." Its voice was thin and held a hint of nervousness.

The taller figure shook its great head, dislodging a loose leaf from a pair of large goat-like horns. "No, we wait for the signal."

"I sssaw the birds leave bosss, that must mean they have sssent for help."

"Probably, we were warned that this could happen. Perhaps we should have had our man slaughter those damn birds." But it was not that simple-such an act would certainly have aroused suspicion.

"Boss, if they get through then we've had it. Ssshould we not attack now? Sssurely it would be better to...," before the sentence was finished the taller figure lashed out with its great fist and caught the newcomer a glancing blow on the side of the head, causing it to stagger.

"We do NOTHING till we hear from our leader. You know his orders-we observe, report and make no move until he says. Our mole will inform us when the prize has been found, until then we wait. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, yes sir," the smaller figure gripped his head in pain, "I meant no disssresspect sssir!"

"I'm quite sure you didn't. You know the penalty for insubordination. Now go and check on the others. We must be vigilant and...," here it paused in its speech as a single black shape wafted up from the village. In the diminishing light the raven's black feathers gleamed as it soared upwards away from the village. "Get back to the camp now! Alert the chief!"

The smaller figure sprinted away, clearly glad to get clear of this great brute.

TBC.

--


	18. The Storm Approaches

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and am not making any financial gains from this story-regrettably!

--

Michael leant back against a post as he attempted to light his pipe. His fingers shook in the cold evening air and he cursed as the tobacco slipped from his grasp. The night had turned cold some two hours ago and although the breeze had now died down to virtually nothing more than a whisper there was no cloud cover in sight, a sure sign that they were in for a cold night. At this time of year the winters could be very bitter and Michael was thankful that he'd had the foresight to bring his cloak along with him.

His gaze drifted out to take in the village interior. By now the sun had almost vanished beneath the horizon, the last of its rays fading from the thatched roofs. By now the village was in virtual darkness, broken only by the distant glow of several fires near the outer huts-a mark of the increased precautions they were taking. At the advice of the woman named Grenfell, Bertholdt had ordered several of the village women to keep five different fires going throughout the night. Each one would serve a single cauldron full of water.

Miss Grenfell had pointed out the value of having burning liquids on hand to drop onto the heads of the enemy. Indeed it was standard practice that every fortification should equip itself with these items. The village had no oil (the traditional weapon of siege warfare as far as he knew) but boiling water was an excellent substitute. Michael could remember that time when, long ago, he had spilt a bowl of boiling water over his hand. The pain had been agonizing and he'd had to keep it in bandages for two weeks, during which time the skin had blistered and finally peeled off. All things considered it had healed well but the scar was still faintly visible. He did not like to think what it would be like to get a saucepan full of the stuff tipped onto your head.

He glanced at the two barrels filled with stones and sharpened stakes, ideal projectiles at short range. These were another precaution, for as Miss Grenfell had pointed out, in siege warfare the advantage in an assault usually went to the defender providing he was well-prepared. Similar barrels had been positioned at various points in the village in the event of an attacker attempting to scale the stockade walls. That was assuming there was an attack tonight, a prospect he sincerely hoped was as unlikely as it seemed.

He looked up as James climbed into the tower, a sword swung over his shoulder. The sword was a momento of his military service and James had never stood sentry duty without it. "You should have brought your coat mate-its going to be a really cold one tonight."

"I'm aware of that."

"Is something wrong?"

James shook his head with a sigh. "It's nothing mate, get back to your duties." He did not want to trouble the younger man with his thoughts. He'd had a weird feeling for several hours now, just like the one he used to get before a battle. What was it that his old friend Gunther used to say? _The calm before the storm_. For once he hoped it was nothing.

--

The tankard of ale lay untouched on the table, its froth having long since dissipated to the sides of the container. Gerard stared unseeing into the amber liquid, his thoughts in much greater turmoil than the surface of the watered down liquor.

_Life,_ he mused, _never goes smoothly_. The whole issue was escalating rapidly. In just twenty four hours this mission had gone from being a simple manhunt to some kind of dark plot with the safety of the entire empire potentially at risk. And the responsibility had been dropped squarely on the shoulders of two simple road wardens. _How did this happen?_

Rhinehardt was correct-Kurzwiel could well be lying to save himself, for even the elf was unsure as to whether he had been truthful about the location of the gem (assuming that is what it is). If it turned out that the man was telling the truth about the gem then what should he do? His duty was to turn it over to the Burgomaster. There would be no shame in that. As Rhinehardt had pointed out the conversation that Kurzwiel had overheard could have been referring to a completely unrelated matter. Yes, there was no reason to believe otherwise.

And yet just supposing he was right. Suppose the Burgomaster was planning to use the gem for some nefarious purpose, what then? Should he take the gem and make a run for it? More than likely he would get a price put on his own head. Not to mention there was no one he knew with experience in these matters. Even if he could find someone would they really believe him? Hell he was still having difficulty accepting this. And if it fell into the hands of another politician who knew what it might ultimately be used for. The empire had become so riven with corruption and unrest that there were too few people left to trust, too many who might try to turn even the most unholy of matters to their own ends. The warrior priests of Sigmar might still be preaching the values of unity and faith but in these troubled times their voices increasingly went unheard.

And then there was Rhinehardt. Supposing he remained unconvinced? The man was his friend but was also fiercely loyal to the Burgomaster. If forced to choose between friends and duty Gerard simply could not be certain which way he would turn. Who then could he trust?

The villagers? Unlikely, they would probably be disbelieving, would certainly want nothing to do with this. Once the rumour of plague got amongst them they would most likely drive him from their homes from sheer terror. And he wouldn't be able to blame them; he would have acted the same way himself at one time.

The bounty hunters? The elf had made his position very clear. His sole concern was the reward and he most likely didn't give a damn about anything else. And what about Katarina? She was something of an enigma to him. From the start he'd had her pegged as a ruthless bounty hunter, no different from Joseph or any of the others he had encountered in his time. The sudden burst of...concern she had displayed today had surprised him. Why was she so ready to believe this tale when those around her had doubted it? Why had she suddenly become more concerned with getting to the truth of the matter instead of collecting the bounty; the same bounty she was now assured by their agreement?

The door opened and the subject of his confusion entered, wrapped up in a worn grey cloak. She nodded curtly when she saw him before marching up to the bar and ordering a pint from the young woman at work behind it. This done she pulled up a chair and settled at the table closest to the bar, apparently in no mood for company. Gerard could understand that. Right now she evidently wanted to be alone and he doubted it was solely due to their earlier disagreement.

The truth was that everyone was becoming increasingly...on edge. Rhinehardt had told him about this. When people were forced to remain in confined spaces for long periods with the threat of attack constantly looming over their heads they tended to become agitated. He knew there had already been a fight between two villagers and one of the traders when the latter had been caught inspecting the stockade. The man had probably only wanted to explore his surroundings but the villagers had jumped to conclusions. Thankfully Bertholdt and Rhinehardt had been on hand to break up the fight before things could turn unpleasant.

He sighed wearily. _Let us just see what the morrow holds_.

--

Michael took a long drag on his pipe, savouring the taste of the tobacco on his tongue. Beside him James rubbed his arms irritably, his breath frosting in the icy air. Neither man spoke; neither was in the mood for talking. The sun had now disappeared beneath the horizon but the two moons were shining brightly, throwing an eerie light onto the clearing and faintly illuminating the outline of the wood before them. Michael shivered, and not from the cold. Both moons were full tonight, viewed by many as a portent of evil.

A series of steady thumps announced Bertholdt's approach as he hauled his frame up the ladder, cursing as he smacked his head on an overhanging beam. Michael was thankful that the darkness concealed his grin. "Everything all right sir?"

"Well enough. Got anything to report?" He already knew the answer. These two were not fools, if they had seen anything to arouse their suspicions they have reported it already.

"None sir," James continued to rub his hands in an effort to get some warmth back into them.

"That's good. James you're to report to the gate, the gatekeeper wants someone to keep an eye on things while he turns in. I'll relieve you until further notice."

"Very good sir." James swung his sword over his back and clambered down the ladder, grateful at being able to move about again.

Bertholdt watched him go, before moving to the edge of the parapet where he could better observe the clearing. For a moment all was quiet. Abruptly something caught his eye. "Michael, over there," he gestured in the direction of the woodland, "you're eyes are sharper than mine. Can you make out anything?"

Michael leant forward, straining his eyes in an effort to discern what the constable had noticed. For a moment there was nothing. Then, suddenly, he caught a flicker of movement, swiftly followed by a second. He nodded grimly. "Yes sir. There's something out there."

Bertholdt nodded grimly "Damn!"

Abruptly their attention was diverted back to the village. Towards the back of the enclosure a lick of flame was beginning to spread across the roof of one of the huts. "What the devil!"

--

It did not take James long to descend the ladder and arrive at the gatekeeper's door. The man's 'office' was a small, one roomed hut made of wood and built into the stockade just to the left of the gatehouse. It was damp, cold and uncomfortable-facts which the gatekeeper had protested about on numerous occasions. When told he should simply retire to his hut each night the man had replied that he had kept a vigil on the gates for the last eight years and he was damned if he would stop now. James smiled at the thought-he was rather fond of the old man in a distant sort of way, despite his rather crass personality.

He knocked on the door and waited for a response. After a few moments he tried again. There was no response. This was strange-the man must surely be in, he could see the glow of the lantern illuminating from the cracks between the timbers. "If you're in there mate I'm coming in." Taking the handle he gently pushed the door open.

The gatekeeper was slumped over his desk, his cloak pulled tightly about his frame and several pieces of paper spread out before him. James sighed, it seemed a shame to wake the old fellow, but he should be kept abreast of what was happening. Taking the man by the shoulder he shook him gently. "Wake up mate; I have to check in a report." When this gesture failed to get a response he applied a little more pressure. When this also failed his concern grew. Taking a firm grip on the man's shoulders he pulled him upright. "Look m..." the words died in his throat.

The gatekeeper slumped back in the chair, eyes glazed over in the grimace of death. For the first time James could see the scarlet stain that began at his throat and had flowed down to stain his shirt and trousers. He looked down further and saw the blood trickling towards his feet. _Oh GODS!_

At that moment the tall figure that had crept up behind him with surprising stealth clamped a hand over his mouth. He barely had time to struggle before the dagger was rammed up between his ribs. He gasped in pain, the sound muffled by his assailant's hand. His hands groped for his sword but his strength was already fading and he was dead before he hit the ground.

Closing the door behind it, the black garbed figure darted towards the gate. It paused momentarily until satisfied it had not been seen. Then there came the faint sound of bolts being drawn back, followed by the steady creak of a gate being eased open.

New figures slipped in through the opening. Each one sprouted horns and matted fur and brandished fearsome looking weapons. At an unspoken signal they began to creep forward.

--

The sentry near the gate had not noticed the fire yet and was still at his post. It came as quite a shock when, completing one lap of his pacing, he turned and found himself facing a pair of two-legged goats. Just as the full horror of this revelation dawned on him one of them raised a long thin object, there was a sudden twang and, a second later, the sentry pitched backwards as the bolt pierced his throat and choked off his scream.

TBC.

--

OOC: I know I've asked this before, but please review if you read this. I always appreciate comments.


	19. The Storm Breaks

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop products and I am getting no financial rewards for this story.

--

The next two sentries fell just as quickly, neither one having a chance to raise the alarm before the deadly aim of a crossbow had ended their lives. The movements of the raiding party were well co-ordinated. Once the nearest sentries were silenced their force divided into three roughly equal sized groups. Two of these spread out to sweep down either flank of the village whilst the middle one fanned out to sweep up the centre. Knowing that the element of surprise would not last long they moved quickly and silently, several advancing while the others hung back to cover them.

--

Miriel placed another log atop the flames, prodding it gently a push aside the grey ash that was forming at the centre. The cauldron bubbled lightly, hot steam escaping into the air. Miriel stayed close to fire. The cold had penetrated her cloak after only a few minutes and she was grateful for the extra warmth. _Just one more hour girl, then you can hand over the shift_.

The sound of cautious footsteps alerted her too late. She turned and beheld the maker of those footsteps. The creature stood on two legs, was covered in thick brown fur and was dressed in only a stained loincloth of grey fabric. In one hand it brandished a fearsome looking scimitar and in the other it held a dull red shield. The firelight played over the beast's features, reflecting in the dull white eyes and illuminating its great horns. In the moonlight, with the fire playing across those mutated features, it truly looked like a demon that had burst forth from the warp of chaos.

Her scream exploded into the night air. She had not even contemplated flight when another figure appeared behind her and struck. Miriel slumped to the ground and the creatures swept past her towards the buildings.

--

Outside the inn Eric looked up sharply as the scream reached his ears. He drew his sword and moved to investigate. "Who goes there? Miriel, are you all right?" No response. From the corner of his eye he caught a flicker of movement. Three figures materialised from the darkness.

"Who goes there?" They made no reply, but continued to advance. "Last chance," he raised his sword into a combat stance, "identify yourselves." Still they made no reply. By now they were close enough for him to make out their outlines-tall, and all armed! His suspicions were confirmed when he made out their curved horns. _Oh Sigmar!_

"Raise the alarm! The wall is breached! We are..." that was a far as he got before the bolt struck him in the chest. With a cry he pitched backwards, clawing at the shaft. A horned figure lunged forward with scimitar raised and ended his failing struggle to cling on to life.

--

Upon hearing the man's cry Gerard bolted to his feet instantly. "Did you hear that?"

"It came from outside." Katarina had also risen to her feet.

Gerard moved swiftly to the door and shoved it open. The light from the candles spilled out of the doorway, illuminating the two figures approaching the White Hart. It took only a split second for Gerard to take in their appearance, the sprawled form that lay behind them and several other figures moving just beyond the range of the escaping light. He leapt backwards, jerking the door closed after him. "Bar the door, we're under attack."

Katarina reacted quickly. She did not waste time with unnecessary questions, but accepted his warning and ran to assist him. Grabbing a long panel of wood she rammed it in place to bar the door closed. By this time the landlord had descended the stairs, apparently alerted by the same screams.

"What's going on, I heard screams?" He looked from one to the other, clearly unsure of what to do.

"We're under attack." Katarina ran to a nearby window, flung the shutters closed and fastened the bolts. "Bar the windows quickly and you," here she turned to the maid who still stood behind the bar, frozen in place without knowing where to go, "get upstairs and warn the others. We're going to need them." The maid hesitated, looking to the landlord for guidance.

"Do as she says Mary, quickly!" Heeding his command she ran for the stairway.

Katarina ran to the opposite side of the room. "How many did you see?"

Gerard slammed another shutter closed. "Just two, but there's got to be more of them out there."

"Has the alarm been sounded?"

"I didn't hear anything."

"Then they've caught us napping."

"So it would seem."

The landlord was busy fastening another shutter. "There are weapons upstairs, including bows. We can use the ledges as firing platforms and pick them off." He moved swiftly to another window. "If we can get this place barred then hopefully we can..."

The sharp sound of shattered glass filled the air and the innkeeper pitched backwards from the window. As he fell his shoulder struck the corner of a table, forcing a gasp of pain past his lips. Gerard ran to his aide. Reaching out he slammed the shutter closed and hurriedly fastened the bolts. Barely pausing he dropped down beside the fallen man and rolled him onto his back. _Oh no_. The man had been pierced through the chest by a bolt. It must have been fired from close by, for the impact had driven the shaft more than halfway into the flesh and muscle. Blood was already beginning to stain the white cloth surrounding the wound.

The landlord coughed and gritted his teeth at the pain. "Damn..." Blood began to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Though he knew the man to be beyond aide Gerard urged him to keep still, looking around for something to staunch the bleeding.

The man must have known the truth of his condition. "Leave it...lad. Should have... seen... that," he gazed up at Gerard and forced a smile, "ought... to have... thou..." His eyes glazed over and his head lolled backwards. Gerard lowered him to the floor, reached out and gently closed the man's eyes. "May Morr guide your way." He looked up sharply as something heavy struck the door. The frame shook, the door bounced inwards, the beam held.

_Damnit!_ Gerard ran to the back door. _Got to get him out_. Taking the handle he threw the door open.

The room was small, about the width of the building and less than a quarter of that in length. Normally it served as storage for food, drink and various supplies. Now it served as a makeshift cell. Kurzwiel was wedged up against the wall, lashed securely to a chair. Both hands and legs were bound securely. He turned his head away, blinking as the glare flooded the room. Gerard knelt and cut his legs free. "We're under attack. Try anything and you'll regret it-understand?"

The prisoner gave a quick nod and Gerard cut the bonds that held him to the chair. Kurzwiel staggered as he stood up, legs stiff and unresponsive from their cramped position. Gerard pushed him forward roughly. "What about my hands?"

"They stay tied, now move!"

"Get up the stairs!" Katarina seized a chair and wedged it under the door handle. She looked up as one of the traders appeared at the top of the stairs.

"What's going on here?"

"We're under attack man, get upstairs and arm yourself!"

"Damn!" The man disappeared from sight. Katarina bounded up the stairway and Gerard forced his prisoner up after her. At the top stair he was met by Perkins. "Get the bows; we need to prepare a defence." The younger man nodded and darted into his room. He emerged seconds later with a bow and set of arrows. "There's more in the boss's room, where is he?"

Gerard shook his head. "I'm sorry kid, he didn't make it."

"What!" The woman's voice startled him. He turned and came face to face with the plump woman he had seen the previous night. She was dressed, as before, in a white nightgown and cap. "Perkins where is Bill? Has he gone to help?"

Gerard stepped forward. "There's no easy way to say this maam, I'm afraid you're husband didn't make it." The woman stared at him, doubt, disbelief and fear working their way across her face. "No he can't have, he's a strong man. He knows how to handle trouble he can't have..." She looked desperately from one face to another, searching for a sign to refute this. There was none offered.

"NOO!" Tears formed in her eyes. She pushed past him, making for the stairs.

Katarina grabbed her roughly by the sleeve and forced her back. "He's dead, there's nothing you can do for him now come on. We've got to defend this place." The innkeeper's wife paid her no heed, desperate to get to her husband. Realising she was getting nowhere the bounty hunter spun her round and hit her smartly across the chin. The woman sagged back into Perkins's arms. "Get her to safety now." He nodded grimly, dragging her into his room.

Gerard shook his head. _I suppose it worked, but she could have been a little more delicate about it_. He glanced down the corridor. By now the other residents had assembled. He counted both maids, both traders and the pedlar. Of Joseph there was no sign.

"Right listen up. This is what we're going to do."

--

Rhinehardt gazed back over the rear of the village. The light of the burning hut illuminated the nearby huts and the barn, casting wildly twisting shadows over the stonework. He glanced back at the burning hut. By now it was well and truly alight, the blaze had taken hold completely and the thatch roof had been largely consumed. He was thankful the huts had been built a respectable distance from one another as, in the absence of a strong wind, the chance of stray sparks setting the other huts alight was greatly reduced.

Initial attempts to quench the blaze had failed and, given the limited water stores available, he had decided the best course was to let it burn itself out. The other villagers had thankfully seen the wisdom of his choice, but the owner of the hut had to be physically restrained from dashing back inside to retrieve his belongings. Rhinehardt sympathised with his predicament but knew there was nothing more to be done. Mercifully the building had been empty when the fire started.

What puzzled him was how the blaze had begun. It could not have been a stray spark from one of the cauldron fires, in the absence of a strong breeze they were simply too far away and the villagers had taken precautions against such an event. Nor had there been a fire burning in the hut, the owner had sworn to that. All he knew was that one minute everything had been fine and the next part of his house had gone up in flames. By the time the alarm had been raised half the roof had gone up.

That was another puzzle-despite the damp conditions and the cold air the blaze had spread much faster than he would have expected, and he had been on the scene within a minute of hearing the alarm. He ran over the various explanations in his head and could come to only one likely conclusion, and he did not like to contemplate what that would mean.

These thoughts were dashed from his head as the scream reached his ears. _What the hell?_ He grabbed his bow and moved off in the direction of the scream, gesturing for a couple of nearby villagers to follow. Darting into the gathering darkness he suddenly espied a commotion up ahead, a number of figures moving about near two of the huts. Shouts and screams mingled with the barking of dogs to greet his approach. As he drew closer he could make out the glint of drawn steel. His suspicions were confirmed when one of the figures went down and the victor stood tall and bellowed in triumph, exposing its horns.

"Warn the others!" He dropped to one knee, notched an arrow and fired. The beastman staggered and fell, the arrow piercing its chest. He repeated the manoeuvre twice, downing a beastman in rapid succession. Then something whistled past his head. To his left he heard one of the villagers cry out in pain. With a curse he rolled to right, came to his feet and leapt into the shelter of a nearby hut. _Crossbows, just great!_ Where was Gerard when he needed him!

--

Gerard notched an arrow and let fly. From below him a cry of pain signalled he had found his mark. Behind him Kurzwiel sat back against the wall. One of the traders sat behind him, ready to pass another arrow to the warden. This was Gerard's plan. Bows had been issued to Katarina, Perkins, himself and the Pedlar, the latter having turned out to have a surprising talent for shooting. Gerard had stationed one the traders to guard the stairs and had placed the maids where they could watch each shooter and render assistance where required. So far he had scored at least two hits, but now the beastmen were hanging back, keeping out of his line of sight. The only exception was the steady pounding upon the door as the creatures attempted to force their way inside. Unfortunately there was no window overlooking this critical point and they were unable to give it covering fire.

"Give me a bow." Kurzwiel's voice cut through his thoughts. "I'll fight with you."

"Thanks but I'm not about to take your word for it."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're outnumbered and struggling to man the walls. If those things break through how will you keep this up? You need every man available, now cut me loose. If these creatures find me they'll just kill me, there's nowhere for me to go here." From the warden's expression he could tell Gerard was not convinced. "I could have killed you that night in the barn but I didn't. Is that the action of a traitor? I give you my word I will not try to escape."

"You're word!"

"Yes!"

Gerard hesitated. There was truth in what the man said, and if trouble started where could he go? Before he could reply there was a distant crash from below and the trader atop the stairs screamed out "They've broken through the door!"

_Damn!_ Gerard dropped his bow and tossed the second trader his knife. "Cut him loose!"

He made for the stairs and pulled the merchant away. Glancing down he saw that the door had given way and several beastmen had entered into the room. Their leader looked up, saw him and charged. Gerard met it half-way. His sword parried the creature's rusty scimitar and struck back. The creature ducked behind its shield. Gerard pulled back, dodged the riposte, struck again. His blade opened a gash in the creature's cheek. The beastmen seemed oblivious to the wound and struck again. Gerard parried. Again the creature ducked behind its shield. Moving quickly he placed his foot on the shield and kicked out. The beastman lost its footing and tumbled back, knocking down the next one in line.

Then he felt a searing pain in his right leg. He staggered, clutching the banister to stave off a fall. His hand went to the wound. He looked down and saw the shaft now buried in his calf. His sword dropped from his hand and he clutched at the wound, almost losing his grip on the banister.

Strong hands grasped his shoulders and the trader dragged him upwards. Through a haze of pain he made out Katarina, arm drawn back and bow outstretched. A shriek from below his line of sight signalled that she had hit her target.

She tossed the bow aside and descended, axe swinging down to meet the advancing creatures. The two locked weapons and pushed, each trying to force the other back. Katarina had the advantage of the high ground and used it. Knocking aside the creature's blade she skilfully changed the axe's direction and swung it upwards into the beast's throat. It fell backwards, knocking down two other beastmen who had been pushing up behind it.

Suddenly a deep voice rang out above the clamour. "Pull back, pull back. Let's burn them out."

The attack ceased, the beastmen retreating back down the stairs, leaving the bodies of their herd members behind. Katarina whipped out a dagger and let fly, bringing the last one down with a scream. The others retreated, pulling the door closed behind them.

Katarina tossed her bow to the trader. "If anything comes through that door shoot it." She then turned her attentions to the injured warden. Drawing another knife she began to cut away the fabric around the wound, tearing off the trouser leg just above the wound.

"This is a bit too close don't you think."

Much to his surprise she actually smiled. "Don't flatter yourself warden. Mary, get me some cloth quickly!" She examined the wound carefully, tearing the cloth when it was brought to form a makeshift bandage. "We can't risk removing it yet, you'll have to bear it. Think you can?"

He forced a grin that turned into a grimace as he attempted to move the leg. "Just keep those things back, I'll look after myself."

--

Alec jerked backwards, seeing the scimitar slice through the air where his chest had been. His opponent advanced, shield held before it, scimitar raised to strike. Alec leapt forward. The creature's momentum carried it past him. The scimitar swung down and missed him completely. He swung right. The axe bit deep into his enemy's back and it sank to its knees. Bracing a foot against its spine he pulled the blade clear.

He had no time to savour his victory. Screams to his left alerted him to another struggle. Three beastmen had gathered around a nearby hut. The owner was bravely defending his dwelling with a sheppard's crook, an improvised weapon. It was a brave effort but futile. Even as he watched the man went down, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers. A pitiful wail pierced the air as the man's wife ran to his aid. Discarding its weapons one of the creatures bent down, seized the woman and began to drag her away. She struggled fiercely but could not get free.

Raising his axe Alec ran to help. The nearest beast turned to face him. Deflecting a sweep of the axe with its sword, it surprised him by sweeping its shield towards him. Catching the blade of the axe on the shield it jerked the weapon from his hands. The return swipe smacked him in the face and bowled him over. The beast leapt forward and swung its sword in a deadly arc. Alec lay still.

--

Rhinehardt leaned out from behind a hut, loosed an arrow and ducked back quickly. This time there was no cry of pain to announce a successful hit. _Can't stay here, got to keep moving_. Things were tight-he didn't know how many of the enemy there were or where they were, although judging by the screams coming from every direction it seemed they had managed to spread through most of the village.

He moved into position to loose another shot-and almost came face to face with a pair of beastmen that were advancing upon him. Acting on reflex he loosed the arrow, striking the nearest in the chest. The second was upon him in an instant. Its scimitar gleamed in the moonlight. He leapt backwards desperately, raising the bow to protect himself. The wood splintered under the impact, almost breaking in half. The beast pressed its charge, slamming shoulder first into him and bowling him over.

Rhinehardt hit the ground hard and the beast loomed above him, blade poised to deliver the finishing blow. He threw up his arm in a vain attempt to ward off the blow.

Suddenly the creature froze, a gasp escaped its lips and it fell sideways. Joseph pulled his blade clear of the beast's back. "Need a hand?"

Rhinehardt took the proffered hand and pulled himself up. "Nice timing. What's the situation?"

"Many, I don't know how many exactly but they've overrun the place. We have to get out of here."

"And the villagers?"

"We've already lost, we have to pull back and regroup. Grab anyone you see and bring them but we must leave."

Rhinehardt nodded grimly, as much as he hated to admit it there was nothing more to be done here except pull back and regroup. "Come on, the others are at the White Hart."

Two beastmen leapt up in their path. Joseph feinted an attack to the right. A quick twist of the wrist spun the blade clear of his opponent's. His lunge took the creature through the heart and it fell.

Rhinehardt locked hilts with his enemy, grasped its sword hand by the wrist and kicked out, catching it a crack on the shin. With a scream of agony it toppled sideways. Disentangling himself Rhinehardt brought his blade down onto the creature's head.

With barely a pause the two of them sped on their way.

TBC.

--

OOC: Man-it took me two days to write this, and it wasn't easy I can tell you. Well the attack has finally begun. Question is can the characters escape or is it too late? More will be revealed in the next chapter.

--


	20. Fire and Death

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not making any financial gamers from this story.

--

Katarina looked out over the window sill, searching for a potential target. There were none to be found-their earlier encounter had clearly dissuaded the beastmen from making another frontal assault, but their behaviour puzzled her. She had fought these creatures before and they had not behaved like this. Far from attempting to renew the attack they seemed to have withdrawn to the shelter of the darkness. _What can they be doing?_

The answer was not long in coming. To her left she espied a small flame about six to seven metres distant. No sooner had she switched focus to this light source when it suddenly left its position and streaked towards her, disappearing somewhere overhead. _What was that?_ Even as she watched several more such lights streaked towards the inn and disappeared overhead.

A sickening feeling began in the pit of her stomach. Moving flames of that size could mean only one thing-burning arrows. The words spoken by one beastman as they had retreated returned to her thoughts and she knew without a doubt that they were trying to set the roof alight. She leant over and scanned the surrounding area desperately but could not make out a target.

One bolt flew past her head, missing her ear by mere centimetres, almost as though to remind her that she had not been forgotten.

She retreated back to the landing and found Gerard leaning against the wall, his leg propped above his head on a stool. "They're setting the place afire; they're going to burn us down!"

Gerard's eyes widened at this. "Can we get out?"

"I doubt it; they've got us pinned down from all angles."

"What about the other villagers? Is there any sign of them?"

She shook her head. "Things are going quiet now, and as the beastmen are still firing at us I think we have to assume they have overwhelmed everyone else."

Further conversation was cut off by a wild shriek from one of the rooms. Katarina dashed inside to find a sobbing Mary cradling Perkins in her lap. The boy had been struck squarely in the neck with a crossbow bolt and now lay motionless. As she knelt down Katarina saw his eyes were closed. She checked for a pulse and found her worst fears confirmed.

"I'm sorry Mary." The maid gave no sign she had heard, but merely continued to cradle the body of her fallen lover. Knowing there was nothing she could say that would ease the woman's pain Katarina returned to the hall. "Perkins is dead. They have us surrounded."

Gerard nodded grimly. "So our choices consist of being cut to pieces out there or roasted alive in here."

"They will not take me alive," Katarina's voice was full of grim determination, "and I will take as many with me as I can." Gerard met her gaze and nodded in agreement.

"To the finish then."

--

Rhinehardt and Joseph had made swift progress, darting from hut to hut until they were within sight of the inn. They encountered three beastmen on the way, which were quickly disposed of. As they completed their approach the two of them were suddenly confronted by another of the herd. They had not yet begun their charge when a second figure emerged and struck the beast in the back with a large axe. As they figure tore its weapon clear they recognised Bertoldt.

Rhinehardt gave him a curt nod. "Glad to see you made it, any sign of the others?"

Bertholdt shook his head sadly. "They took us by surprise at the gate. I've been looking for survivors but I think the creatures have overrun the place."

"We guessed as much, do you know if the inn is holding out?"

"I saw some of the beasts firing at it only a moment ago; so it's possible they are still holding out over there yes."

"Then we need to move fast." Rhinehardt returned his gaze to the White Hart and saw, for the first time, the flames that were beginning to spread across the building's roof. "Very fast. Elf, you're the best of us at stealth, do you can reach the stables and get the horses ready? "

Joseph nodded. "I'll prepare as many as I can, but we may have to share."

"Do it then, and hurry! We haven't encountered many of the beasts here so they must have moved to the other side. They must be sweeping the place from one end to the other. We'll try and do something about those beasts around the inn."

"Watch your backs then." The elf turned and sprinted away. Within seconds he had vanished into the darkness. Rhinehardt gestured to the constable and they ran to the shelter of the next hut. Rhinehardt peered around the corner and was able to make out the shapes of two beastmen standing close to their position.

"They have crossbows," he called back to the constable, "I don't suppose any of your men are still alive."

"They are." Bertholdt hefted the axe and swung it, burying the blade deep between the man's shoulders. "With any luck they should be rounding up the stragglers." Rhinehardt gasped as the impact drove the breath from his lungs. Bertholdt let go up the handle, drew a dagger and finished him with a quick strike to the neck. "A pity really." He pulled the axe clear, swung it over his shoulder and advanced towards the inn.

The beastmen turned at his approach, crossbows pointed. He raised his hand. "Corven!" The creatures lowered their weapons. "Report the situation."

"We have control of the village sir, and the prisoner is inside the inn with the rest of them. They've barricaded the place and we are trying to drive them out."

"So I see. I should hope for your sakes you have not hit the prisoner-our leader will be most disappointed if you have cost us the information he carries."

--

OOC: Oh my God-be honest now who thought I was going to do this?


	21. Truce

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop products. I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story; it's just for a bit of fun.

--

It did not take long for those inside the White Hart to notice the fire. The smell of smoke was very distinctive and swiftly penetrated the gaps in the attic floor long before the heat began to make itself felt. Gerard's first move upon scenting this was to order one of the traders aloft. Retrieving a ladder from the landlord's room the man ascended the steps and forced open the attic hatch. He raised his head through the gap and was immediately hit by a wall of smoke. The thick acrid clouds stung his eyes and seemed to lacerate his throat, making him cough violently. The heat was equally intense, searing the skin of his face in seconds.

Unable to draw breath he was quickly forced back down the ladder. His knees buckled as he hit the ground and he doubled over, gasping for air. Kurzwiel leapt up the ladder and, taking a deep breath, forced the hatch shut, cutting off the stream of smoke that had begun to pour through the opening.

"Damn roof's alight" he called out unnecessarily.

--

By now the fire was well underway, with much of the thatch roof having been consumed. The flames were now spreading to the timbers of the upper floor. The heat was growing increasingly intense and the expanding glare pushed the beastmen back further as they sought to remain in the shadows.

Bertholdt took careful aim and fired. The crossbow bolt flew through the air and arced through the nearest window. Further to his right one of the beasts raised its crossbow and fired. Again the missile flew true and arced through another window.

The beast standing beside Bertholdt tried unsuccessfully to follow the path of their flight, before turning its attention to the constable. "What do we do now?"

"Now we wait for their response."

"Sir, that blaze is pretty intense; they may well be dead by now."

"I hope not or you will join them."

--

The first bolt flew over Katarina's head to embed itself firmly in the wall. The second entered through Kurzwiel's window, struck the edge of the door frame and ricocheted downwards into the floor a mere five inches short of Gerard's leg.

_Shit that was too close! _

Kurzwiel looked back at him. "You allright?"

"Yes I'm fine." For the first time he noticed the yellow parchment wrapped around shaft of the bolt. _What the..?_ Gritting his teeth he levered himself closer, reached out and unfastened the parchment. The writing was rough and uneven, scrawled in some kind of chalk. He brushed his finger across one of the words and the dust came away on his finger. _Charcoal_.

The writing was poor, but just about legible. It read:

Wish to talk. Send someone to meet me outside inn now. Wave white cloth if agree.

He lowered it slowly. _This is odd_. He motioned Katarina and Kurzwiel over; sending one of the traders to watch the fugitive's window. When the two of them had read the message he asked their opinion.

Katarina was uncertain "It's strange, why should they want to talk to us? Why not just let us burn."

"Do we believe them?" Kurzwiel's tone was equally dubious.

"Do we have a choice?" Already Gerard could feel the heat of the blaze from above. It would not be long before it spread below to engulf them all.

Katarina nodded slowly. "Get me something white."

--

The door of the inn opened slowly and Katarina glanced out into the darkness. There was no sign of life. Extending her arm she waved the torn piece of cloth for a moment. When nothing happened she stepped out into the glare and advanced, coming to a halt a couple of meters from the inn. She glanced back at the building to make sure she was within Kurzwiel's line of fire and for the first time realised the extent of the blaze. They had to do something soon or the smoke would kill them all long before the flames reached them.

She turned back in time to catch sight of the two advancing figures. One of them was a tall, broad shouldered beastman with a scimitar slung at its side; the other she recognised as Bertoldt. The latter's presence puzzled her when she saw that he was unbound and unarmed. They halted within a few feet of her. Bertholdt was the first to speak.

"I'm glad to see you're alive."

"You seem to have managed the same, what are you doing with this creature?"

"We've been overwhelmed and most of my men are dead." He paused, apparently trying to consider how to frame his next words. "I've agreed to surrender the village."

Katarina stared at him in disbelief. "Are you insane? These are beastmen we are talking about; you've just condemned us all to a hideous death!"

"That is incorrect my lady." This time it was the beastman who spoke. Its voice was surprisingly clear, with an accented tone that sounded suspiciously like Riekspiel. Why should a beast of chaos speak with the accent of a Reikland man?

"First of all, despite what this attack may suggest, we do not wish you dead, at least not in this way. And secondly," here the creature reached into the thick fur under its chin and appeared to fiddle with something. There was a strange click and the beast reached up, took hold of its horns and pulled them forwards. Katarina watched in mounting disbelief as the creature's head slid forward off its shoulders to reveal, beneath the demonic head, the features of a dark haired, broad cheeked human. The man had an ugly scar running from the top of his right eyebrow to the bottom of his cheek and the right eye gazed sightlessly from its socket, but otherwise there was nothing unusual about the face. "As you can see I am no beast of chaos."

--

OOC: Allright everyone-sorry about the wait, my new job takes up a lot of my time but hopefully I'll get a few more chapters up this weekend.


	22. Decisions

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop products and I am gaining no financial profits from writing this story.

--

Katarina closed the door behind her and traded a grim look with Gerard. By now the heat had forced the other inhabitants to seek refuge on the lower floor. Gerard lay propped up against the nearest table, his leg resting atop a chair. His sword lay atop the table alongside several arrows. In his hands he held a bow with an arrow notched ready to fire. Kurzwiel stood further off to the right, back pressed to the wall, arrow notched and ready.

Further down the room the innkeeper's wife sat cradling the body of her husband while Mary held her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. The second maid had taken shelter nearby and was holding the child brought in by the rider the previous night. The boy remained unresponsive and gave no form of acknowledgement. The pedlar and both traders had been posted at various positions to cover the bar with their arrows. The body of Perkins lay at the back and had been covered with a sheet.

"What happened?" Gerard asked, feeling an unexpected sense of relief at her return.

Katarina met his eyes.

--

_For a moment she stared at the man, her mind struggling to accept what it was being shown. Suddenly everything made sense. The strange behaviour of these creatures, the unusual tracks and the use of these weapons-they had never been dealing with beastmen in the first place!_

"_I can understand your surprise; it is pleasing to see my plan has worked. However you now know the truth and we must talk. You're friend has agreed to surrender the rest of the village, will you agree to surrender?" _

"_Never."_

_The man dipped his head and assumed a curious expression. "You have courage my lady, I can respect that but I advise you not to be so hasty. Might I remind you that you do not hold the winning cards and you can gain nothing by further resistance. The village is under my control now and you are alone."_

"_Why are you making us this offer?" _

_He shrugged in reply. "It makes little difference to me what fate you meet but I dislike seeing lives thrown away needlessly. I would like to at least offer you the chance to see sense and save yourselves." _

"_And what do you intend to do if we surrender?"_

"_That will have to be decided later. However I will give you my word now that your lives will be spared, despite our choice of disguise we are not followers of the chaos gods, in fact we had to kill off the former owners of these skins to obtain them."_

_Katarina regarded him with distrusting eyes. "How do I know I can trust you?"_

"_You don't but," he gestured to the building behind her, "you have no choice really. You may return to that place if you wish but you will certainly die and not in a pleasant way if I am any judge. Or you can throw yourself on our mercy. As I said I will make no promises except that I will spare your lives."_

_She was silent for a moment, weighing up her options. Sensing her indecision the fur-clad man decided to make another offer. "I can appreciate that you cannot make this decision alone so I will allow you half an hour to confer with your friends; I doubt the fire will permit longer than that. If you agree to my offer then come out with that cloth again."_

_He turned to go. "And I warn you do not try anything. We have the place surrounded and will shoot down anyone who attempts to run for it." He took hold of Bertoldt's arm. "Come along constable, you've done your bit."_

_Katarina steeped forward and seized Bertholdt's other arm. "No, he comes with me .We will discuss this matter with him inside otherwise no deal."_

_The fur-clad man regarded her with amusement. "Trying to bargain with me hey? Allright take him, perhaps he can talk some sense into you. And I assure you he will be of no benefit to you in terms of escape." With that he turned on his heel and strode away into the darkness._

--

"So those are our choices, we die in hear or take our chances with these people."

Gerard nodded grimly. "They're clever, I'll give them that. All this time we thought we were facing a herd of beasts and it turns out we have something far more dangerous."

Kurzwiel nodded grimly. "There have been rumours of bandits in this area; it would seem that we've just stumbled across those who've been spreading these rumours."

"Indeed. So now what do we do?"

"We've only got one choice as I see it," the pedlar's voice was notably agitated, "if we stay here we'll be burnt to death. We have to take our chances."

One of the traders nodded in agreement. "I agree, we can accomplish nothing here, but if we give ourselves up then we may have a chance".

The innkeeper's wife looked at them incredulously. "How can you trust them? They killed my husband, they killed young Perkins, and they've destroyed this village. How can you think they will keep their word?"

"I am sorry for your loss madam and I admit that I don't know how trustworthy they are," the trader kept his voice low, "but I do know that we will die if we stay in here and we cannot escape by flight. Surrender may be our only option."

Gerard drew the innkeeper's wife's attention. "Is there a secret passage of any kind from here?"

"No sir, nothing." She drew in deep breath. "They're right, we are trapped in here."

"I'm sorry it came to this," Bertholdt seemed unable to meet their gazes, "I don't know how they managed to get through the gate."

"There's no point worrying about that now," Gerard cast his gaze from one person to another. "If anyone wishes to give themselves up then do so, there is no shame in that. We can achieve nothing more here."

"You wish to surrender?" Katarina's voice was without expression.

Gerard considered his reply before speaking. "Bertholdt, have they shown quarter so far?"

The constable nodded. "My surviving men have been spared, as have the women and children. I do not know what these people plan but they have done as they promised."

Gerard glanced from one person to another-to the constable who still refused to meet his gaze; to Katarina and Kurzwiel who looked grim but determined. At the innkeeper's wife who sat beside her fallen husband and Mary who was putting on a brave face despite her recent loss. At the traders, the pedlar and the other maid, all of whom were showing signs of fear as their predicament deepened. And to the young boy who still sat huddled against the wall, refusing to acknowledge anyone. They were all looking to him right now.

He remembered Katarina's words to him earlier that day. _One thing I cannot stand is someone who shirks their responsibilities_.

"The smoke is coming through." The pedlar pointed to the stairs.

Gerard followed his gesture and saw the thick black clouds beginning to descend. The heat had grown more intense. From above there came a loud crash as something heavy finally gave way. They would not have long now. He took a deep breath. "Fetch the cloth."

--

Katarina was the first to exit, the white cloth extended before her. Kurzwiel followed, supporting the wounded warden with his shoulder. One by one the others followed them out. For a moment all was quiet, and then a dozen figures emerged from the darkness. Most of them had removed their headgear now that the pretence was no longer required. Several held crossbows trained on the group, the others carried lengths of rope.

Their leader moved forward and stood before Katarina. "You have made a smart choice woman, I regret that you will have to be bound but I think you will forgive us this precaution, escapees are an unnecessary worry at a time like this."

"You gave us your word..."

"And I fully intend to keep it; your lives will be spared. Nonetheless I must take precautions." He noticed Gerard's wound. "Your healer has been apprehended, I will have her attend to your wound. Now" the man turned his attention to Bertholdt, "which one of them is Kurzwiel?"

--

Amidst all this turmoil no one had noticed the lone horse that sped away from the blazing scene and headed towards the gate. Only the two men left to watch this opening detected its approach and they detected it far too late. Having assumed that everything was going according to plan they had made the forgivable mistake of dropping their guard and making themselves more vulnerable.

The first one fumbled desperately for its crossbow. Something flashed in the moonlight and the guard reeled backwards against the gate, sliding slowly to the floor. The rider sped past before the second guard could take aim. He fired blindly into the night. The pounding hooves did not stop, continuing on until it faded into the distance.

When the other guards came up they found only tracks and silence to greet them.

--


	23. Prisoners of the Bandits

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and if any of them read these pages they may rest assured that I am not benefitting financially from this story in any way.

--

The sun rose slowly, its rays emerging to bathe the landscape in a faint sea of gold. As the rays descended the birdsong rose to greet them, each individual bird chirping its greeting to the dawning of a new day. The rays pushed on across the landscape, throwing shadows across the clearing as it touched the treetops and illuminated the desolate remains of the village.

The changes wrought to the place overnight were instantly apparent. The stockade and watchtower remained intact but the gates hung wide open, watched over by a lone guard. The man patrolled the watchtower warily, wrapping the thick furs he wore tighter around himself to keep out the cold. His crossbow leant against the wall loaded and strung, ready for use the instant it was needed.

Beyond this man lay the remains of the village. The White Hart was barely recognisable-its roof and frame had been consumed by the flames and the stone walls, weakened by the loss of their supports, had collapsed to leave only a large heap of rubble from which a few fragments of wall still poked defiantly. Thin tendrils of smoke still drifted upwards, testament to the ferocity of the blaze that had raged for nearly eight hours before finally dying down.

The buildings beyond were still intact save the one that had caught fire during the night. Its circular walls still stood but had been badly blackened by the flames. Fortunately the lack of a strong wind had prevented the blaze from spreading to the nearby huts. Figures clad in fur moved in and out of these dwellings, their arms loaded with various objects. These ranged from small items of jewellery to farm tools. Anything that might prove of value was carried out and deposited into a cart waiting on the inside of the gates.

The man on the gates returned his gaze to the gathering at the centre of the clearing. The raiders had brought their wagons up towards the end of the night once it was assured they had achieved victory. The three wagons had been moved to form a half circle. The largest of these was partially filled with objects similar to those currently being removed from the village. The other two contained around a dozen people each-men, women and children. All were chained securely to the iron bar fixed to the centre of the wagons. Four armed guards kept a wary eye on the prisoners.

Nearby were two camp fires around which were seated half a dozen more fur-clad figures. One of the fires was currently serving as a cooking stove over which a cauldron bubbled, attended to by a small swarthy man dressed in a leather apron.

--

Katarina tugged at the shackles that bound her wrists and feet in frustration. It was useless. These chains were well maintained and the bar was bolted too firmly to the wagon floor. Her captors had made sure to check the thickness of her limbs before selecting the manacles, making sure that she could not slip her hands through the rings. Mary sat next to her, head bowed low with grief. Gerard sat opposite the pair. His wounded leg had been bandaged as promised, but once done he had been placed in the cart with the other prisoners. Though he was putting on a brave face she could tell the wound still caused him a lot of pain when he tried to move his leg.

Of the other captives the pedlar and one of the traders had been chained together at the other end of the wagon. The innkeeper's wife, the second maid, the boy and the second the trader had been bundled into the other wagon with most of the other villagers who had been taken captive. Most of these were women and children, for few of the men seemed to have survived the attack. The raiders had been ruthless in suppressing all pockets of resistance. There was no sign of the elf and worse still she had been unable to catch any sight of Rhinehardt. The discovery saddened her because it could only mean one thing. Though she had never trusted the elf she knew that the grizzled warden would not have abandoned his partner to these raiders.

She felt a fresh burst of anger well up inside her chest as she saw Bertholdt's form moving amongst the group by the campfires. Gerard read her expression and guessed at whom she was looking. Their minds drifted back to the night's events.

--

_Kurzwiel looked up sharply at the mention of his name. His eyes widened as Bertholdt stepped forward and gestured towards him. "What are you doing?"_

"_My job Mister Kurzwiel. My colleagues here have been looking for you for some time. I must say I had just about given up hope of finding you, but luckily our friends the wardens turned up in time to drive you into the open for me to snap up."_

_The others stared at him in open disbelief. Gerard was the first to find his voice. "But you...you are one of the villagers. Why betray your own people?"_

"_My loyalties are more complex than you think I'm afraid. Nor am I in the mood for storytelling. Men, take him." Two figures moved towards Kurzwiel, unwinding lengths of rope. He reacted instantly. Lowering his body he released his hold on Gerard as gently as possible. As the warden fell to the ground he took off, sprinting for the nearest hut. He had not gone far when something struck him sharply on the head. He lost his balance and fell. Three men were on him instantly. Still dazed by the blow he was quickly subdued and bound._

_Bertholdt's voice rang out over the roar of the flames. "Take special care of him, we'll need to interrogate him later." _

"_TRAITOR!!" With a scream of anger Katarina launched herself at him. _

_Bertholdt was big, powerfully built man but Katarina had the strength of pure anger. Catching him by surprise she sent them both tumbling to the ground. Katarina managed to roll on top, her hands reaching for his throat. Recovering from the shock Bertholdt reached up and grasped her hair, trying to pull her back. She ignored the pain, dug her foot into the earth and pushed forwards._

_One of the raiders came up behind her and struck her hard across the back of the head. As she slumped forwards he placed his foot against her shoulder and kicked hard, sending her sprawling. Bertholdt rolled over, clutching his throat and coughing. Finally he managed to gasp out, "bind the bitch!" _

"_No!" Gritting his teeth against the pain Gerard struggled to raise himself, hand flying to his dagger. As it cleared the sheath another raider lunged forward and kicked him sharply in the leg just above his wound. The leg buckled and he fell sideways with a cry of pain. When he looked up he found the point of the leaders scimitar held inches away from his face. "You can't help her when you're dead. I agreed to spare your lives but not if you resist. That wound needs treating so I suggest you calm down and let us attend to it. Agreed?" When Gerard made no reply he seemed satisfied. Sheathing his weapon he gestured to some of his men. _

_At his order two men grabbed Gerard and hauled him up, others moved forward and began searching the others for weapons. Both maids protested at being handled like this and from the look on her face the innkeeper's wife would throw herself at these people at any moment. Gerard realised he had to act quickly._

"_Do what they say ladies, grit your teeth and no heroics, understand?"_

"_That is good advice warden," Bertholdt massaged his throat, "I had a feeling you would talk some sense into them. Now heed his words and no harm will befall you."_

_Gerard had to exercise great restraint to keep himself from lunging for the man. Later, he promised himself, later he would settle this score. For now his priority was keeping everyone else alive. _

_The captives were searched, bound and marched to the gates. Gerard took one last look at the blazing inn. As he watched the roof finally collapsed in on itself, sending up great gouts of flame in its wake to further illuminate the night sky. His thoughts turned briefly to Perkins, the young man who had died protecting those he cared for. During their surrender no one had thought to bring out his body, intending to have it retrieved once things had been settled. Now it lay trapped beneath the blazing flames. Now his home had become his funeral pyre. He had deserved a better ending this._

--

And as it turned out the villagers were not the only the captives taken by these bandits. The first thing she had noticed upon reaching them was that there were several other captives present. She had managed to gather, through snatched pieces of conversation, that these people had been taken captive from both the surrounding settlements and from the caravan Kurzwiel had been travelling with. There was also one other captive.

Frederick Wehler sat next to Gerard. A well-built man in his late forties, he was dressed in a dark pullover and leggings. He was resting his head in his hands, fingers laced through an unkempt mop of black hair. Their meeting with him had erased any hopes the survivors had entertained of a speedy rescue.

He was from the patrol.

--

OOC: I'll bet everyone thought the first chapter was going to have no bearing on this story. Well it may yet, though I'm not saying how.


	24. The Patrolman's Tale

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am gaining no financial rewards by writing this story.

--

The sun was setting in the sky as the lead rider pulled his horse to a halt, raising his right arm in a signal to the rest of the column to do likewise.

"Patrol halt!" Sergeant Winridge's voice shattered the calm, with each man pulling his horse sharply to a halt.

The leader raised a spy-glass to his eye and scanned the surrounding area, adjusting the settings on the scope to compensate for the glare. He dipped his gaze, careful not to look directly at the fading sun. The light glinted off the bronze barrel, briefly illuminating the inscription carved into it. Once satisfied the coast was clear he lowered the glass. "Sergeant Winridge!"

"Yes sir!"

"We'll make camp for the night. Organise the men."

"Aye sir," the sergeant drew his horse out of line and trotted down the column, barking out orders as he went, "pitch your tents as standard and make camp in this clearing lads. Pervins fetch firewood, Arkin and Gustav sentry duty. Wehler you get the horses bedded down for the night. Now fall in."

With that the patrol dispersed, the six men going to attend to their allotted tasks. The sergeant rode back up to Commander Moore, clearing his throat to announce his approach. "With respect sir, do you think it's best to camp in these woods? Perhaps we should head for the higher ground?"

The Commander was a young man in his mid twenties with short sandy coloured hair and brown eyes. The son of one of Mordheim's junior officials, he had gained his position largely through his family's connections to the Burgomaster. Although he had seen some previous service with a company of outriders, this was Moore's first mission as a patrol commander and his lack of experience was painfully obvious. In Winridge's opinion he was not yet ready for the responsibility.

The discovery of the massacred caravan seemed to have gone to man's heart and was affecting his judgement. Although the raiding party responsible for the attack had evidently been a large one he had, against the advice of both Winridge and of Corporal Konrad, made the decision to begin immediate pursuit rather than to send a rider back to the town for reinforcements. He had reasoned that once they came to one of the local dwellings they could send back one of the peasants with a message. Until then all the men would be needed.

Things had gotten worse with the discovery that the raiders had split into two separate groups. Moore had decided to weaken his force further by splitting it, sending four riders under the Corporal's command in pursuit of the smaller group and leading the remaining seven in pursuit of the larger one. Though unable to sway Moore's decision, Winridge had managed to persuade him to order the corporal to rejoin them if unable to locate the enemy within ten days.

That deadline had ended two days ago. No word had been heard from them and now Winridge was becoming increasingly worried, a feeling heightened by the fact that the signs indicated his party was now catching up with their quarry. This morning they had discovered a burnt out homestead and only twelve hours ago had found fresh tracks from both men and wagons, almost certainly the raiders. Just to make everything perfect all the dwellings they came across had either been deserted or burnt down, preventing them from sending off a message.

"We'll camp here sergeant, but keep the sentries posted. I intend to be away first thing. With any luck we should catch up with these brigands come tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Winridge dismounted and led his mount away to the clearing. He would have to raise the issue of the message in the morning.

--

"I don't like this you know," Frederick bent down and began to chip away at Merloth's hoof with the hoof pick. The bay mare tossed her head irritably but made no attempt to pull away. Any outrider worth his salt would make sure to clean out his horses hooves regularly. Dirt and stones built up in the grooves throughout the day and, if left untended could easily lead to thrush.

"Yes, you've been saying that for the past week." Oliver had finished cleaning the hooves of the captain's horse and was waiting for his friend to finish before heading back for the warmth of the fire. He rubbed his hands irritably; they were already going numb with cold. "Haven't you finished yet?"

"Just a second...there," he let the hoof drop to the ground and the two headed for the campfire. "You spend too little time on your horse you know, I've told you before to take better care of him."

"I've checked his hooves, they are clean enough," Oliver let loose an exasperated sigh; "you lavish too much time on them you know."

"A well-kept horse could be the difference between life and death so Karl always says; you have to make sure yours is in good condition."

"He's fine, now knock it off mate, I'm no mood for one of your lectures."

Frederick glanced sideways at his expression and decided to let the matter drop. By now he could clearly catch the scent of dinner. _Oh great, broth again! Much more of that muck and I'll..._

Dinner was served in silence, each man concentrating on his meal. It was common knowledge that they were almost within sight of their quarry and that knowledge had created an air of nervous expectation, the calm before the storm as he had once heard a travelling poet describe it. It was never good for company morale.

The Commander was the first to turn in. One by one the others began to retire for the night. When Oliver entered the tent he shared with Frederick he found his colleague had already bedded himself down for the night. Frederick greeted him wearily as he entered.

"I've been thinking."

"About what pray tell?"

"This whole chase-you've seen the tracks; we must be outnumbered by at least two to one. What the hell is Moore planning to do when we find them?"

"I don't know Fred, some glorious death charge most likely. I've seen too many of these young officers. Spend a few weeks at the school and they think they know everything about war. And of course we reap the benefits."

Frederick nodded grimly, "He's taken that caravan to heart, I reckon he's so caught up in apprehending the raiders he's given no real thought to dealing with them. And Karl's group still hasn't rejoined us."

"That's not unusual, they probably found the rest of those bandits and got delayed dealing with them."

"And left us short of hands in the process. If we lose the element of surprise then we're in trouble." Neither man gave voice to their deeper fears-that if such a clash had taken place it might not have gone in favour of their comrades.

Oliver grunted irritably, pulling a blanket over his shoulders. "Well we can only do as we're ordered. Now do me a favour and shut up, we have to relieve Arkin and Gustav in a few hours so unless you want to be up all night get some sleep."

"I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight mate, not with all this cursed waiting hanging over me."

"If you don't shut up now you'll certainly get a few hours sleep!" Oliver cracked his knuckles loudly-a warning.

Frederick decided he was best left alone. He glanced up at the roof of the tent. The red spot that marked the moon of Morslieb was just visible, the baleful image sending a shiver down his spine. _The sooner this patrol is over the better._

--

The men greeted dawn with audible groans, reluctant to rise in the cold damp. Only the sergeant's thunderous roars drove them out of cover. Muttering under their breath they hastily packed their gear and saddled the horses. Within the hour they had picked up their quarry's trail and resumed pursuit. An hour later they found a ransacked shed, probably used by sheppards to store supplies for the winter. Whatever was inside had been looted, the only living resident a white barn owl which watched them warily with large dark eyes until they had left its roost.

The tracks outside the shed were relatively fresh, Oliver estimated no more than three hours old. The news prompted Moore to redouble the pace and for once there were no objections. With the prospect of combat looming the men were all keen to end the chase. At first they moved quickly, the tracks easy to follow along the dirt road. After a while however they branched off into the woods and it became necessary to slow the pace, two men being sent ahead to scout the area. The rest of the men fanned out, each searching for signs of the enemy.

Suddenly a high-pitched whiney up ahead brought them to a halt. Hands flew to weapons, their owners casting nervous gazes through the trees ahead.

"Gustav," the sergeant's voice was unnaturally loud in the quiet wood, not a single birdsong had been heard since they had entered the trees. "Eric, report!"

The volley came out of nowhere, the first thing Frederick heard was a high pitched whistle as something flew past his head. Then beside him he heard Oliver scream with pain.

"Ambush, everyone ride!" sergeant Windridge had just drawn his sword when the bolt pierced his shoulder, the force of the blow casting him from the saddle. As he fell a second bolt struck him in the face, entering through the right eye to embed itself in the brain. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Frederick pulled on the left rein to turn his horse round and dug his heels sharply into its side. As the animal leapt forward something flashed in the corner of his eye. Before he could react the object struck him full in the side, unhorsing him. His head struck the ground hard. In the distance he saw Moore's horse go down, the commander trapped beneath its bulk. Then the darkness closed and he saw no more.

--

"And that's about the shape of it," Frederick leant forward, his head in his hands, "when I woke up I was in chains. I was the sole survivor."

Gerard, Katarina and the others looked away, feeling the weight of his story settling on their shoulders. That patrol had effectively been the local garrison for this area, they always called at the village at least once a month and their arrival had been the prisoner's last hope. Even if the carrier pigeons should reach Mordheim the city was too far away to hope for any immediate relief. Any troops the Burgomaster might send would arrive too late. With the news of their loss all hope had faded.

Gerard eventually broke the silence. "I remember you now, I've seen you in the Red Drake a few times-and I knew some of the men you rode with. I'm sorry for your loss." The Red Drake was a tavern in Mordheim that had become a favourite haunt of the local troops.

Frederick shrugged, "What's done is done mate, I've accepted their loss. Right now our concern should be getting away from here. Once these scum reach their goal there's no hope for us. "

Katarina glanced back at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I've been listening to what the guards say ever since I got here and I've managed to pick up snippets of their conversations. Some of the other prisoners have also picked up on what they say."

"And what have you found out?" By now all eyes were fixed on him.

"They attacked this village to get hold of a man named Kurzwiel. After that they intend to head south for the river and turn east. At some point they plan to meet with a ship and offload us there. The captain of that ship is a slaver. I don't know where he intends to sail but I think you can guess why he wants us."

Katarina's eyes widened. "Slavery!"

"These days anything sells, including people."

"And I thought we had stamped out that trade long ago." Gerard's voice was low.

"So did I, it seems we were wrong."

--

OOC: _Author's Note:_ Thrush-a common hoof ailment caused by the build up of dirt and manure-in severe cases it can cause lameness. Stones in the horse's hoof can also cause stone bruises.

I would also like to thank GigaPlankton for your review. It's good to know I have an audience. Reviews encourage me to keep writing so please everyone don't hold back if you want to see more chapters posted.


	25. Interrogations

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or any part of the Games Workshop business and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story.

--

Bertholdt stroked the flint across the blade of his axe, occasionally striking up a spark as metal grated over stone. He knew the blade did not require sharpening; its edge was still as keen as it had been when he'd used it the previous night. But he continued nonetheless. He found the activity relaxing and it had long become a habit. Around him several of the bandits sat, treating their weapons and nursing the last of their breakfast. They had discarded their horned head dresses but most still wore the skins of the beasts they had slain, the furs proving just as useful at keeping out the cold as inspiring fear in their prey.

He glanced up as Thork approached him. Thork was the bands second in command, a tall and well-muscled barbarian from the lands of Norsica. He had the flaxen hair and blue eyes that characterised many north men and carried one of the dreaded two-handed axes favoured by that race. Bertholdt had seen him use it with deadly effect, bringing down a full grown warhorse with a single blow. The man's great strength was equalled only by his temper-quick to anger and hard to appease, he had a tendency tended to get carried away in the heat of battle. The other raiders had learned to give him a wide berth when this happened.

"The Chief wants you," Thork jerked a thumb over his shoulder before going to the cauldron and helping himself to a plateful of stew. Bertholdt slung the axe over his shoulder and strode off to a smaller group sitting a few meters away.

--

There were three men in the group, the leader and his two advisors. They had been discussing the attack of the night before. It had not gone as well as they had hoped. Whilst the initial entry had been made without loss they had met with stronger resistance than expected.

"Thirteen dead and ten more seriously wounded. That's half our strength thrown away on this wretched place."

The leader of the band was a dark haired man with brown eyes and of medium build. Like the rest of his band he was clad in the beastman's fur and wore a dark-bladed scimitar at his side. He nodded slowly, drawing a deep breath from his pipe as he considered the news.

"Yes Angus, I agree it's a regrettable loss but one that had to be paid. We have captured our man and we now have some more captives to add to our stock. Once we obtain what the baron requires we can resume our journey and dispense with the prisoners." He glanced up as Bertholdt approached, "Ah constable, so glad you could join us."

"Rork," Bertholdt dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Angus and I were just discussing our little raid. Unfortunately it does not seem to have gone quite as planned."

"Yes sir, I regret the loss of life, but the resistance was stronger than we thought. I probably should have taken care of those wardens and bounty hunters earlier, but I believe that to have attempted that alone would have drawn attention to myself and I might not have been able to get the gate open."

"The village was a bonus, nothing more-Kurzwiel was our primary objective. We capture him and move on our way before the patrol can arrive, that was always the plan. You still have not told me why you gave the signal to attack."

Bertholdt related the story to him-of how the wardens and their companions had uncovered Kurzwiel and how he had judged it necessary to order the attack before they had located what he was trying to conceal . Messenger pigeons had been despatched to Mordheim and he could not be sure that the patrol would not arrive soon, for it was due any day now. "Under the circumstances I thought it best to move quickly."

"So you say, though in truth you need not have worried. We dealt with that pathetic little patrol some time back. There would have been no immediate relief for the village even if those pigeons do reach the city."

"With respect Rork I did not know about the patrol. And I have heard that four of its members split off from the main group after they found the caravan. Did you manage to find them?"

"No, to my knowledge they are still alive. The four of them are no threat to us, but I take your point. I suppose you acted for the best. And I remember it was you who managed to stop my men from incinerating our captives alive so for that I thank you. Under the circumstances I commend your thinking, though I am puzzled as to how these wardens managed to do what you could not, drive out Kurzwiel within a couple of days. You had more than a week to find him and yet you failed, why is that?"

Bertholdt dropped his gaze. "I...have asked myself sir, I don't know. I learnt he had left the same day as the caravan you ambushed and I failed to suspect he might have returned. The thought did not enter my head until that northern woman turned up and began asking questions about him."

"A nearly unforgivable lapse my friend. I hope you will take pains to improve your judgement in the future.

"You can be certain of that."

"Good. Now perhaps you can help us with a little problem that has arisen. Kurzwiel does not have the package and he is proving rather...resilient to our interrogations. I fear we may have to resort to harsher methods but we do not have the time right now. Did he happen to let anything slip when the wardens interrogated him?"

"I believe he mentioned something, but I was not present when he did."

"Who was privy to this?"

"Both wardens, the north woman and the elf."

"Elf!" for the first time Rork's face betrayed a flicker of surprise. "What elf?"

"An elf came to the village several days back, about the same time as those wardens rode in. Claimed he was a bounty hunter sent by the Burgomaster."

"Indeed, can you describe him?"

"Sure, quite tall with long silvery hair and scar along here," so saying he drew his finger across the left side of his face from above the ear to the middle of his cheek.

"I should have known he would be here." Rork turned to the man seated to his right, "Heinz, have that village searched from top to bottom and if you find nothing search the surrounding woodland. I want it confirmed the elf is dead." As the man scurried away Rork caught sight of the constable's expression. "That elf whom you dismiss so casually works for the Burgomaster. The baron's plans depend upon surprise, the last thing we need is this elf getting word of what happened here to Mordheim and putting the Burgomaster on the alert."

"It seems there is much I have not been told in this affair."

"You and everyone else, you were told what you needed to know and nothing more. Perhaps if I had kept you more up to date on this affair then you could have taken precautions. It is done however, and if the elf was the one who slipped past us last night then we cannot waste time looking for him. We'll break camp at midday and put as much distance between ourselves and this place as we can. A few of us will remain to watch the area. Once we have found what we are looking for we will head for the river and offload our cargo."

--

Katarina glanced up as two guards climbed up into the wagon. One moved to unshackle her whilst the second unlocked Gerard's chains. The guard caught her gaze and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Don't try anything." She followed his gesture and saw a pair of guards with crossbows levelled. "Hold out your hands." She complied and the guard slipped a pair of shackles over her wrists, chaining her hands behind her back. He steered her to the edge where a third guard helped her down and placed a second set of shackles around her ankles. "Just so you know not to try and escape miss."Katarina fought back the urge to spit in his face.

Gerard joined her shortly. In the eyes of the raiders his wound did not make him any less of a threat, although they did not shackle his hands behind his back. One of them gave him a dry branch retrieved from the forest to use as a makeshift crutch. Their guards pushed them forwards unceremoniously and they were escorted away from the wagons.

--

Kurzwiel lay on his side, bound securely. It was clear he had been beaten severely, his face was mottled with bruises and dried blood had stained the lower half of his face. He looked up at them through swollen eyes and managed a weak nod. "Nice to see you both."

Bertholdt stood beside him, hands resting on the haft of his two handed axe. Just beyond him stood two figures. One of them was a tall man with blond hair and beard, the other was of average height with close-cropped black hair and dressed in black furs.

Gerard studied them warily. "Which of you is the leader?"

"I'll ask the questions young warden." It was the dark haired one who spoke; Katarina recognised his voice as that of the man who had persuaded them to surrender at the inn.

"What's going on here, you gave your word no harm would come to us."

"Correction, I gave you my word that your lives would be spared miss, but I said nothing about actual harm. Now to business," he began to pace around them, walking a circular route. "As you may have guessed I have a vested interest in your friend here," he gestured to Kurzwiel with his foot, "and he is proving rather...uncooperative. I was hoping one of you might see sense and tell me what he has told you about the object's location."

Gerard feigned a puzzled expression. "What object? He told us nothing, I'm afraid we had no time to get him talking before you attacked."

"Nice try warden, but futile I'm afraid. The constable here overheard your discussion with the elf yesterday. We know he has hidden the object and that he told you where to find it. I require that information from you now."

"Even if I did know I would not tell you-you have no idea what you are dealing with here."

"Think carefully about what you say warden, as you have seen I am not afraid to be cruel should the need arise"

"You heard him, we will tell you nothing." Katarina's voice was low and dangerous.

"Then I am sorry, but you leave me no choice."

He nodded and one the guards punched Gerard full in the stomach. The warden doubled over gasping for breath. His attacker grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up to deliver a second blow to the gut. As he sagged a second guard kicked his crutch away and he fell to the ground. The second guard stepped forward and placed the heel of his boot squarely over Gerard's wound. It was like having a knife twisted around inside the flesh. He screamed as the pain shot up his leg, fingers digging into the ground. He found it hard to draw breath.

The guard removed his foot for a moment before re-applying the pressure. Gerard gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to scream.

"Enough!" Katarina moved to intervene. One guard grabbed her by the hair, jerked her backwards and punched her hard in the chest. She gave a gasp of pain and staggered. The guard drew his fist back for another blow. Katarina's head snapped forward, her forehead struck the guard in the nose. He fell back, stunned. She planted a swift kick to his left knee, which gave way with a crack.

Bertholdt wrapped her across the back of her head with the hilt of his axe. Katarina fell forwards, hit the earth and struggled to regain her feet. One of the guards leapt forward and planted a swift kick to her stomach, the blow driving the air from her body.

The raider she had attacked was clutching his knee in pain. "Kill the bitch!" he hissed.

His comrade renewed the attack, landing several solid kicks. She rolled up into a ball, attempting to shield herself from the blows.

"Stop that!" Gerard struggled to rise. A kick to the face sent him sprawling. The guard responsible moved in and planted several solid kicks in his ribs forcing him to curl up for protection.

"Enough!" Rork raised his hand in a signal to stop. Heeding their leader's command both guards ceased the attacks and pulled back. Rork waited patiently whilst the captives regained their breath before he spoke.

"That was brave, but it won't save you. Fortunately I don't have the time to conduct a proper interrogation so you will be spared this for now. I will give you until tomorrow to think over your situation. If you do not tell me what I want to know then I promise things will get much worse for you. Now take them away...and see to that leg, looks like you've opened up the wound."

As the three prisoners were manhandled away he turned to Thork. "Keep an eye on them; if they don't talk by tomorrow then we'll commence a proper interrogation."

"Would it not be better to begin sooner?"

"No, let them sweat for a bit. Perhaps it will wear them down. If not then we can interrogate one in front of the other. If I read things correctly those two don't like seeing harm done to one-another."

--

The captives were returned to the wagon and chained up. By midday the bandits had completed their search of the village. Everything of value was salvaged, the wagons loaded and the villager's few animals secured.

The raiders struck camp and rode off at midday. Only four of them were left behind. Their orders were simple- keep a watch on the area and report any sign of relief from Mordheim. Once Rork had the information he required he would despatch a rider to collect the object. The village was left to stand for now, but once their business was concluded the remaining buildings were to be put to the torch. The bodies of the fallen raiders were buried; those of the villagers were left for the crows.

--

No-one saw the two sets of eyes that watched from the shadows of the trees. At one spot in the branches of a tree a pair of blue eyes observed the departure of the raiders. Once they were out of sight the owner dropped down from its vantage point and disappeared amongst the foliage.

At a different point, unseen by anyone else, a pair of red eyes observed the party's departure. For a moment their gaze turned to the village. Then they vanished.

--


	26. Survivors

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story.

--

Michael lay in a heap at the bottom of the watchtower. The villager had hit the ground hard where Bertholdt had let him fall. He made no movement as the crow fluttered down to land a few feet away. The black bird circled him warily, searching for signs of life. Finding none its confidence grew and it began to edge in towards the fallen man's head. Upon reaching his face it lowered its head and delivered an experimental peck to the cheek. When this failed to elicit a response it transferred its attentions to the eyes, pecking one of them sharply.

"Oww!!" The crow took off, squawking in protest. Michael blinked rapidly, his eyes sensitive to the glare of the sun. He was groggy and stiff as he stirred back to consciousness and for a moment he lay still, waiting for his mind to clear. When the ache behind his eyes had subsided sufficiently he attempted to sit up, and screamed as searing waves of pain shot up his leg.

--

At the back of the village one of the raiders emerged from the barn, a weary expression on his face. Acting on orders he had just combed the building from top to bottom for any sign of the object the chief had described to him. He had found nothing.

_Well,_ he thought, _on to the next damned house I suppose_.

Something suddenly closed over his mouth and jerked his head backwards. He had no time to react before the dagger was thrust upwards into the side of his ribcage. His body went rigid with shock, the scream muffled through the gag. Then the dagger was pulled clear and he went limp. His attacker released him and sprinted for shelter without a backward glance.

--

By now Michael had managed to lever himself upright against the wall. His memory was returning-he could remember greeting Bertholdt on the watch tower, remember the constable alerting him to movement nearby and then...blackness.

Looking around it was clear something that terrible had happened. The familiar outline of the White Hart was now a smoking ruin. From where he lay he could see two bodies, although they were too far away to identify. The birds had gathered around them and had already started to feast. It sickened him to think that he was looking at corpses who might once have been people he knew. Now they were just carrion for the crows, several of whom were casting beady looks in his direction-just another potential meal.

He didn't know how serious his injuries were, but they were extensive. His body was aching all over, particularly his right leg which gave him great pain whenever he attempted to move it and he suspected it might be broken. His head also pained him and would quickly begin to throb if he moved it too quickly.

_What now?_ He couldn't stay here, his injuries had to be treated and he needed to find out what had happened. He was just going to have to try and move himself.

The effort was great, but by using the ladder he managed to pull himself upright-until his hand slipped and he fell backwards. Fortunately he did not land on his injured leg but the fresh outburst of pain was still enough to force out a cry. He gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to subside.

_Okay, let's try that again shall we._

Michael was about to begin pulling himself up again when the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. Suddenly a brown haired man in strange furs rounded the corner, crossbow in hand. Relief at seeing another living soul soon gave way to uncertainty when he realised this was not one of the villagers. Uncertainty turned to horror when the man began to train the crossbow in his direction.

"No wait!" The words were hardly out his mouth when the crossbow went off, the bolt thudding into the woodwork above his head. The attacker stood stock-still for an instant, eyes wide and fixed upon his victim. Then he fell to the ground, the hilt of a curved sword protruding from his back.

Michael's eyes travelled from the body of his attacker to his saviour.

Joseph strode up to the corpse and retrieved the blade. "Looks like I got here just in time."

--

With some difficulty Joseph managed to get Michael inside one of the huts. A quick examination revealed nothing more serious than a broken leg and a collection of rather bruises. Joseph made a makeshift splint from a pair of wooden staves and bound them with fur torn from the bodies of the raiders he had slain. He worked quickly but carefully, occasionally slipping outside to make sure the coast was clear. Although he had disposed of the four raiders it was still possible more would return.

As he worked he explained what had happened, describing the attack on the village and the subsequent defeat and capture of the inhabitants. He also described Bertholdt's betrayal and the departure of the raiding party earlier that day. "You certainly picked a good time to wake up."

"I still can't believe it; I mean Bertholdt was one of us."

"People are rarely what they seem. Whatever his reason he has betrayed you. And now you're fellows are either dead or in captivity."

Michael studied the elf's face for a moment, but Joseph's expression was inscrutable. "You're going after them aren't you?"

Joseph did not reply. After a few moments he got up and left, returning with a flask of water and a small sack. "Provisions," he offered by way of explanation, "and this is all the water I could find. You'll have to make it last till I get back."

"How long will you be?" Michael did not relish the idea of being left alone in his current condition.

"Two days at the most. Don't worry I'll come back as soon as I can." The elf disappeared outside and returned with a pair of crossbows and a quiver of arrows. "If anyone other than me comes here play dead. If that doesn't work use these."

Michael pulled the bowstrings back and nodded approval. "What are you going to do?"

Joseph pulled the scarf up over his face and placed his wide-brimmed hat onto his head. "I came here to claim a bounty and that's what I intend to do." And with that he was gone.

--

There was no time to dispose of the raider's bodies, or to give the villagers a proper burial. In the end he contented himself with placing them inside another hut, closing the door behind him. Rhinehardt's body he placed in last of all. It had been stripped of its weapons but was otherwise untouched. Because it had been left lying face down the crows had been unable to get at its eyes, which could not be said for all the fallen. _Watch over them till I get back_.

The raiders were positioned at the back-it was a small hope but if more of their party returned and searched the village they might just fail to find the bodies of their comrades.

Of course they would almost certainly discover the young human, but there was nothing he could do about that. With a whispered command his horse sprang into a canter and headed off in pursuit of the raiders.

--


	27. Joseph Gives Chase

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop, and be assured I am not making any financial gains from this story.

--

The trail was not hard to follow. It was possible to train men to move without leaving tracks but horses were another matter, and wagons were certainly out of the question. Soon the tracks indicated he was less than half an hour behind the raiding party. At this point he slowed his mount to a steady trot, senses on full alert for danger. As he rode he reflected on the events of the previous night and of his own retreat from the fray:

--

_When he had left Rhinehardt and Bertholdt it had been a simple matter to reach the stables. Two beastmen were standing a short distance off, both armed with crossbows. Another one stood further off, its shape just visible in the gloom and there were probably others nearby. Careful to make no sound he opened the stable door and slipped inside._

_The building was deserted save for the animals. It was not large-in dimensions it was about the same size as the inn. Unlike the stables of many coaching inns he had seen this one had only been built to house horses. Any wagons that came to the village were presumably either left outside or moved to the barn. There were five stalls on either side, together with storage spaces for riding gear and a small inlet set aside for the grooms to eat their meals._

_Blackfoot had been placed in the second stall on the right. The tall grey stallion made no sound as Joseph entered; somehow sensing its rider's need for silence. Joseph reached out and patted his neck soothingly. "I will need your help tonight my friend."_

_He swiftly saddled five mounts including his own-there was no time to get any more ready. Then, leaving them tethered inside, he slipped out into the night. Moving quickly he managed to close on the inn, careful to avoid the glare thrown up by the flames. In the dark it was easy to avoid the beastmen, whose full attention was fixed on the inn. A quick search of the surrounding area confirmed his suspicions that the place was surrounded._

_This now posed a severe problem-there were too many for him to tackle alone. He could always attempt to pick them off one at a time but it would only take one to raise the alarm. By now the inn was now well ablaze-anyone inside must come out soon or they would surely perish. _

_He was still debating what to do next when the door was opened and Katarina emerged, followed by the others. Straining his ears he was just able to make out what was being said. _

_The surrender was over quickly, the captives bound and taken away._

"_Damn it!"_

_Realising the fight was lost Joseph moved back to the stables. Untying Blackfoot he led his horse to the stockade wall, and then turned towards the gate. "Wait here my friend." Creeping forward he was surprised to find only a single guard on the gate. Returning to his horse he swung up into the saddle and broke into a gallop. _

_The guard saw him too late. Joseph's sword slashed him across the chest, throwing him back against the wall. Joseph rode on, not stopping until he was sure he was clear of pursuit._

--

When the new day had dawned he crept back to the edge of the clearing, taking care to keep within the tree line. From a vantage point in the branches of a tree he was able to observe the activities of the raiding party. Although the distance was great his elven eyes were keen and he had managed to pick out the key details.

There were about twenty raiders in the party, all of whom were clad in furred pelts. This was what had astonished him most, the realisation that these beastmen were nothing more than men in disguise. Simple, but effective nonetheless.

They had three wagons and about three dozen horses and farm animals, doubtless pillaged from local homesteads. The prisoners were held in two of the wagons and although they were too far away to make out their faces he was able to recognise Katarina and Gerard, their clothes distinctive from those worn by the villagers. He observed their interrogation and eventual return to the wagon, relieved to see that Kurzwiel was still alive. _I might just get that bounty after all._

There were too many bandits for him to consider an attack, so he decided to sit back and await developments. He did not have to wait long. At midday the party had packed up and moved off, leaving only a small group behind, probably to finish searching for plunder.

Disposing of the guards had been very easy, as had tracking this group. Now the hardest part was about to come.

--

He came upon his quarry in the late afternoon. Keeping them in sight would mean running the risk of giving his presence away, so he dropped back to shadow them at a distance, being guided by tracks alone. As the light began to fade he dismounted and continued on foot.

The sound of voices up ahead brought him to a stop. Tethering Blackfoot to a shrub he crept towards the voices.

As he had suspected the raiders were making camp for the night. This was what he had been waiting for. After their successful raid it was likely they would allow their guard to drop, be less alert than they should be. What he had to do now was devise a means to get into the camp, grab Kurzwiel and get out alive.

Unfurling the telescope he had taken from the body of one of the raiders, he settled down and began to scan the layout of the camp. _Tonight then_.

--

OOC: I know this chapter is rather short, but I can't make every chapter into a mammoth one, sadly.

--


	28. Dusk Descends

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am gaining no financial benefits from the writing of this story.

--

The journey through the forest lasted until dusk. In total the party was on the move for just over four hours, although to the captives in the wagons it seemed far longer. At first Gerard had focussed his mind upon the possibility of escape but this had proved difficult due to his leg wound. By now the pain had faded to more a bearable ache but it still flared up every time the wagon lurched over a stone or protruding tree root, and this happened a lot.

Katarina refused to meet anyone's eye, instead her eyes ventured everywhere from the head of the column to the others who shared her prison, probing for anything that could be turned to her advantage when the time came. Opposite her Frederick stared listlessly into space, lost in his own thoughts. Mary had her arm around the innkeeper's wife, masking her own grief as she tried to comfort the older woman. The remaining prisoners either sobbed quietly or stared at the dark planking beneath their feet. Few words were spoken, the knowledge that their last chance of help had gone having spread an air of gloom through their company.

The bandit leader had divided his men into three groups. The first group formed the advance guard, riding ahead of the wagons to scout the area for potential dangers. The second group was the largest, consisting of foot troops. Most of them marched on either side of the wagons, with half a dozen stationed at the head and rear of the column. The third and smallest group, the rearguard, contained the remaining riders and rode half a mile behind them. It was an efficient tactic that would assure an advance warning without depleting the strength of the main body.

Gerard twisted round and managed to catch the attention of one guard. "Hey you, how about some water?"

"Later. Shut your mouth."

The order to make camp was given just as darkness had begun to descend. The wagons were wheeled into a loose circle, the livestock and horses bedded down for the night. Three campfires were built, cauldrons placed over the flames and filled with water. A perimeter was swiftly drawn up around the site and sentries were posted.

The goods wagon was guarded by one man, but both prison wagons were protected by two guards-partly to make sure the captives were secure but also to prevent any raiders from taking liberties with the women. The bandit leader knew the rules of the slave market and was not prepared to risk any damage that might reduce the potential value of his captives. Discipline was strictly maintained within the band and the men knew they could expect severe punishment for breaking the rules.

It was over an hour before the prisoners were fed with a thin gruel and some water. Then one by one the captives were released from the wagon and allowed to 'relieve themselves' for the evening before being returned and chained. The boy who had been brought to the village by the rider was still in his catatonic state and refused to acknowledge anyone. The guards had to manhandle him down with assistance from the maid who had assumed charge of him. Once this was done the camp began to settle for the night.

--

Two guards climbed into the wagon, making their way through the captives until they came to Kurzwiel. The man was quickly unshackled and escorted from the wagon. Katarina and Gerard watched him go, neither one of them asking where he was being taken-they already knew.

Kurzwiel's guards marched him towards a group of figures congregated next to the goods wagon. His eyes were still swollen from the beating he had taken earlier that day and it was not until he was up close that he was able to identify them. Bertholdt stood to one side, once again leaning casually on his axe. The tall Norseman stood two figures down from him, arms folded casually across his bare chest. The bandit leader stood next to this man, his gaze concealed by the shadows of the night. The man was still clad in black furs but had now donned a strange headdress. It clung tightly to his head, was jet black in appearance and the brow had been fitted with a strange protrusion about eight inches in length that curved downwards from the top to both corners. The design reminded him of the beak of a raven, regarded by most peasants as a portent of death-very appropriate under the circumstances.

The leader was the first to speak. "I think you know why you have been brought here. I have given you ample time to consider my words so I am going to ask you again. Are you prepared to tell me where the object is?"

"Go to hell!" Kurzwiel spat out his response through cracked lips.

"As you wish," he turned to the Norseman, "you may begin now Thork. But remember no permanent damage; there will be time for that later."

Thork grunted and nodded to Kurzwiel's two guards. Without a word they removed his shackles and threw him roughly to the ground. Moving forward until he stood over the man, Thork bent down and seized his right shoulder in a steely grip. His right hand gripped the fugitive's right shoulder blade and he placed his left hand firmly in the middle right section of Kurzwiel's back. Kurzwiel attempted to free himself but such was the Norseman's strength that he might as well have tried to lift a fallen tree. Satisfied with his grip, Thork pulled back sharply.

Kurzwiel's scream shattered the air, startling several birds that had taken roost in the nearby trees.

"Things will get worse as you resist," the leader took a puff on his pipe; "I don't wish to do this unnecessarily so I really wish you would try being a little more helpful."

--

Katarina and Gerard exchanged worried glances as the scream reached their ears. The leader had said earlier that he had not had time to conduct a proper interrogation. Well he had all the time in the world now.

"Do you think he can hold out?"

Katarina shrugged, "Do you?"

"No," he levered himself up painfully and scanned their surroundings again, dropping back quickly as one of the guards caught sight of him. The action sent a brief spasm through his leg.

"You should take more care with that wound," Katarina scolded him once she was satisfied the guard had lost interest, "it'll open up again if you're not careful."

"That's the least of our problems right now. There are guards all over the place and I can't see how we are going to get out of here without raising the alarm."

"Then you give up too easily, like the rest of these people. You really should try thinking beyond the obvious."

Frederick looked up sharply, "you have a plan?"

"We must wait until the right time. Just be ready to follow my lead when that time comes."

--

Kurzwiel spat out the last of the vomit, the pain in his shoulder still throbbing incessantly. His head fell forward into the yellow puddle but he took no notice, right now nothing registered in his mind except for the pain. Thork bent down and, seizing a handful of his hair, jerked his head upwards until they were face to face. "Vreddy to talk yet runt?"

If he could have done so Kurzwiel would have spat, anything to wipe the arrogant smirk off that face.

Thork released his hold and let him fall back to the ground. "Good."

Around them the wall of figures continued to stare, not a single one of them had moved or spoken since the interrogation had begun. Like ravenous crows they simply watched and waited.

--

Michael jerked awake, hands reaching for the crossbow at his side and levelling the bolt at the door. He waited, eyes focussed squarely on its faint outline. He could not be certain, but for an instant he was sure he had heard something, a faint scrabbling noise.

The wind howled, having picked up pace during the night. The door rattled, its iron lock making a loud grating sound. _Just the door. What am I doing?_ Michael lowered the crossbow and shifted himself into a more comfortable position

A stronger gust of wind suddenly blew the door inwards, the force slamming it against the stone wall with a loud crash. Moonlight poured in through the doorway, throwing a strange glow over the room.

_Damn!_ Michael hauled himself to his feet, preparing to limp over and close the door.

It was then that he heard the faint rustling to his left. He glanced round just in time to see a dark blur detach itself from the shadows. Before he had even begun to train the crossbow the thing was upon him. Pain pierced his side as the blade was rammed upwards into his ribs. He screamed, the sound ringing out, unheard by any save his killer. The last thing he saw was the fur coated maw of the thing that had killed him and the last thing he smelt was its foul breath.

--

OOC: Oh dear, poor Michael, but I do like to keep things uncertain where possible. Be a bit dull otherwise. ;) As always please read and review, these are what keep me interested and are greatly appreciated. And don't worry-I know updates can take a while to be posted but this story will be finished.

--


	29. What to do?

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and am making no financial profits from writing this story.

--

"Who goes there?" The guard raised his crossbow till it was level with his chin, eyes scanning the dark forest.

There was no response to his challenge, only the occasional rustle that marked the passage of some tiny woodland creature could be discerned above the gentle whistle of the wind. For a few moments more he remained on the alert, all senses strained, before slowly lowering the weapon.

_Crack_.

There it was again! The faint sharp crack, just like that of a twig being snapped underfoot. "Who goes there?" This time he was certain he was not hearing things. He flipped the safety catch off and trained the weapon in the direction of the sound. Again there was no response.

He considered calling for help but quickly decided against it. He was not yet sure what had made the sound and the others would not appreciate being disturbed for a false alarm. After a moment's hesitation he made up his mind and began to advance in the direction the sound had come from.

He moved slowly, taking care where he placed his feet, trying to avoid snapping twigs and giving himself away. It was no use, the thick soles of his boots made it difficult to feel the dry pieces of wood before they had snapped. It was certainly impossible to avoid rustling the thick blanket of leaves that had fallen earlier that autumn.

His eyes were everywhere, his ears strained for the slightest sound. Nothing.

He had not gone far when he heard a faint rustling to his left. He whipped round. "Who goes there?" Again there was no response. "I'm warning you, come out now or I fire!"

A dark shape stirred in the undergrowth barely three feet from him. With a gasp he lowered the crossbow and fired.

The fox leapt in to air with a loud bark and sped off into the night.

The guard watched it go, heart hammering in his chest. _Just a fox_._ Nothing else_. He leant back against a tree trunk, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"What was that noise?" the voice rang out from the direction of the camp.

"Just a fox it's all right." Heaving a sigh of relief he replaced the safety catch, retrieved the bolt and returned to his post.

From the branches of a nearby tree Joseph watched him leave.

--

Joseph had expected the raiders to camp at dusk. No one would risk travelling through a forest at night at the best of times, especially with wagons in tow. In truth he had been a little surprised to discover their choice of route. In one respect it made sense as it removed the risk of running into the local patrol. However it brought with it the new dangers of what that lurked within the forest.

Throughout his long stay in the Old World Joseph had moved through the Drakwald forest many times and had long come to regard it as a place of evil. While it lacked the true sinister feel of some forests, namely those within the province of Sylvania to the south of Ostland, it was virtually infested with bands of orcs, beastmen and brigands; all of which had been increasing in number as the civil unrest spread through the empire. Even if you could avoid these there was also the danger of the forest animals-wolves, bears and wild cats had all been known to make raids on camps.

And of course there were more terrible creatures lurking in the darker depths of the forest.

Joseph pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. Focus on one thing at a time.

Once certain he was only half a mile behind the group he had dismounted and advanced cautiously, waiting till full darkness had descended before sneaking up on the camp. Although the moons were shining brightly much of their light was filtered out by the trees. In the dim light his elven night vision would give him a telling advantage over the raiders, who would be virtually blind without torches.

Moving slowly, hugging tree trunks and bushes for cover, he had slowly homed in on the camp. After a few minutes he had managed to detect the sentry. Deciding to survey the camp he had climbed into the branches of a nearby tree, almost giving himself away in the process. This fact irked him but there was nothing to be done about it.

Joseph waited until he was sure the sentry had returned to his post, withdrew the spy glass he had taken from the dead raider and focussed it in the direction of the camp.

With the branches long since stripped of their leaves it was possible to discern a rough picture of the camp. As he had suspected the wagons were on the outside, with about a dozen raiders scattered around the campfires. The rest must be serving as sentries. The prisoners would probably still be in the wagons to minimise the risk of an escape.

Replacing the glass, Joseph leaned back against the tree trunk. The question now was _how on earth am I to proceed?_

He would rate himself against a few of these raiders, but the prospect of taking on twenty was a daunting one. If he could pick off the sentries then there was a chance he could sneak into the camp, grab Kurzwiel and slip back into the night. With a decent head-start it was doubtful the raiders would be able to find them. But even if he could get in and locate Kurzwiel, what about the other prisoners? He could hardly get them out without raising the alarm and if he attempted to leave them they might well alert the raiders with their calls for help. Leaving them behind to their fate would be regrettable but there was nothing else for it. They were not his problem.

_Better take a closer look I suppose_.

Swinging one leg over the branch, he carefully lowered himself to the ground, jumping the last few feet. He froze upon landing, waiting for any sign that the sentry had heard him. There was none. Hugging the trees he began to creep closer to the camp, his moccasins brushing twigs and leaves aside almost soundlessly. It was a good thing he had changed his footwear before leaving his horse, the soft leather shoes were much better suited for stealth than his boots would have been.

And tonight he was going to need every advantage he could get.

--

Kurzwiel fell back, gasping as his injured shoulder hit the ground. Everywhere on his body hurt. The Norseman, it turned out, knew how to make people talk. He could feel the darkness tugging at his mind, pulsing gently behind his eyes. It was tempting, so very tempting to surrender to that darkness, to let it take away the pain.

_No!_

Raven Helm stared down at him, gently cracking his knuckles. "That will do for tonight I think Thork. Now that he has been good enough to tell us what we want I think we can retire for the night. Have his wounds tended and put him in the wagon. Perhaps he'll serve as a deterrent to the others."

"Vy not just kill him now zir? Von less mouth to feed."

"Patience Thork. It's possible he may have lied, in which case I'll need you to have another word with him tomorrow."

Thork grinned at this, "Aye sir."

"Right everyone," Raven Helm turned to the rest of the group, "change the sentries round, they can use a rest. And now I think we can retire for the night. I want everyone ready to resume the journey tomorrow."

One of the raiders to his left raised a hand to get his attention, "Sir, do you want us to go and look for this object tonight?"

"In this forest? No we'll wait till first light. If it's where he claims then we can be on our way; if not then we may have a slight delay but I'm sure Thork can get through to him if that's the case. Any other questions?"

"Just one sir," this time it was Angus who spoke, "I've had requests from some of the men with regard to possible...activities."

"Activities, what do you mean exactly?" Raven Helm asked, although he knew full well.

"Well it seems they've taken a shine to some of the women sir, and it has been a long time since they've enjoyed a woman's company."

"You know my answer Angus, and I expect you to make the penalty for disobedience very clear. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. We've made a good profit on this raid. The goods we've seized will make a tidy sum on the black market and those captives will certainly turn a good profit once we reach the slaver. I will not permit anything to change that. Anything else?"

No one else spoke and with that the group dispersed, making preparations to turn in for the night. They all wanted to be out of the forest as soon as possible.

--


	30. Run For It!

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am not gaining any financial benefits from composing this story.

--

Gerard glanced around again, trying to get a good view of the camp. "It looks like they've all turned in now, just a couple keeping the fires going right now."

"And the guards, what are they doing?"

"Both over there," Frederick jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "half asleep if I'm any judge."

"No reason they shouldn't be," Katarina stretched her legs in an effort to work out the cramp, "we're all secure in here and they've got the sentries to warn them if any danger approaches. Most likely think they've been landed with a pointless job."

Gerard nodded, "and right now they're not giving us their full attention."

"Exactly. I think it's time we gave them a little lesson in manners, wouldn't you agree gentlemen?"

A smile slowly spread across the warden's face. "So the right moment has now arrived. All right woman, what's this plan you've been hinting at?"

"Simple, just watch and learn." She reached behind her head and pulled out a thin piece of metal, which she inserted into the locks of her manacles.

"That's your plan?" Frederick could not hide his disbelief, "you're going to pick the locks with a hairpin?"

"Yes, once we're free we can make our next move. Of course if you have a better idea I'll be very happy to hear it."

"Well no but...can you seriously pick these locks with a hairpin?"

Katarina took a deep breath to steady herself. "Not if you keep breaking my concentration. Now if you want to help me shut up and keep an eye on those guards!"

Suitably chastised, Frederick returned his gaze to the two figures standing with their backs to the wagons. He prayed they wouldn't hear anything, for the click of the hairpin in the lock seemed unnaturally loud to his ears.

Suddenly one of Katarina's manacles opened with a faint click. "Pass the word around, no one makes a sound." Gerard leant across and ordered the pedlar to pass the message round. He had barely finished when Katarina successfully picked her second wrist manacle and transferred her attentions to those binding her feet.

"Funny, I never pictured you as the type to wear hair pins."

"Most men don't."

--

Not far from the second prison wagon another incident was unfolding. The sentry, who was standing opposite to, and just within sight of, the wagon was suddenly alerted by a sharp rustling to his right. Levelling the crossbow he barked out a challenge. No reply came.

For a moment all was quiet, then the sound was repeated-a sharp crash followed by a quickly fading rustling, almost like something falling. He scanned the forest but there was no movement.

_Could very well be an animal. Or it could be something else. _For a moment he debated whether he should report this incident.

_But supposing it's nothing? _

In that case the others would not be happy. It had been more than five hours since they had made camp and most of them were probably asleep. False alarms had been raised before and the camp had never been very happy upon learning they had been roused for nothing. Their leader had never criticised the sentries but neither had he made any effort to defend their actions, apparently content to let the men settle it amongst themselves. Thork had made no secret of his feelings, even going so far as to throw one man to the floor in his anger.

_Couldn't hurt to check I suppose_.

Cocking the crossbow he advanced cautiously, listening for any sound of an intruder. No movement could be discerned amidst the faint beams of moonlight, no sound could be heard save for the gentle rustling of wind-swept leaves.

Planting his back to a tree, the sentry dropped into a crouch and raised the crossbow. Taking a deep breath he began to count down from twenty. After a full two minutes had passed and there had been neither sight nor sound of any danger he concluded it had to have been a false alarm. He lowered the bow and began to rise.

The arrow struck him square in the throat, the shaft piercing the muscle and tissue, driving through until the steel head exited the back of the neck and buried itself in the bark of the tree. A gargle exited the man's mouth before his body went ridged and slumped back against the tree trunk, still held in place by the arrow. Blood began to trickle from a corner of his mouth.

_Still got it_. Joseph allowed himself a satisfied smile. It had been a while since he had used his longbow at night but it seemed his aim was still sharp.

Things had gone well. A quick scout had revealed eight sentries at different points around the camp. He had now disposed of the three closest to the wagons. Once his diversion had begun he would have an open window through which to slip and get his quarry out. All that remained now was to set things in motion.

--

Fifteen minutes passed before he was able to get into a good position. It took close to another ten minutes to lure the sentry away despatch him. Now Joseph knew he had to work fast, it would be only a matter of time before they realised something was wrong and turned out the camp.

Tearing a piece of fur from a strip taken off the body of one of the sentries, the elf fastened it around the head of an arrow. Muttering a few words he extended his hand and a small flame appeared in the centre of the palm. This was used to ignite the fur. Once the strip was alight he took aim and loosed the arrow.

The flaming brand sped through the night like a falling comet, thudding sharply into the side of the goods wagon. Joseph repeated the tactic three times, each brand sailing through the air to land amidst the contents of the wagon. One of them landed amidst a pile of clothes, another struck the awning used to cover the goods when it rained. Soon both piles were alight and the flames were spreading along the dry planks.

By now the guard, half asleep, had raised the alarm and the whole camp was in uproar. Bandits threw off their blankets and scrambled for weapons, calling out to sentries who could not answer.

--

"What's going on?" Raven Helm's voice rang out through the night as he attempted to rally the camp.

"We're under attack sir!" one of the bandits called to him from the flaming wagon. Several bandits had gathered around the spreading flames and were endeavouring to either put out the blaze or, realising they were fighting a losing battle; unload what they could before everything went up in flames.

"Where did this attack come from?"

"Over there, that's where the brands came from sir," the guard raised a hand and pointed past the blaze into the trees.

"Did you see how many were fired?"

"Not exactly sir, but there couldn't have been more than five or six."

"One or two attackers then, where are the sentries?"

"They haven't reported in sir."

"Sir," another bandit came running back from the shelter of the forest, "Johann is dead sir, pierced by an arrow, and two of the other sentries have failed to report in."

"They're probably dead. Right we can't stay here, Bertholdt!" He gestured the former constable forward, "take twelve men and scour the area. I want these bastards caught and found understand."

"Aye sir...what the?" Berthodlt's attention was suddenly caught by a raucous that had sprung up by one of the prison wagons.

--

The arrival of the flaming arrows had not gone unnoticed from the prisoner's wagons. The response they provoked was mixed. Once the initial shock had worn off the prisoners began to cry out with emotion-most felt a surge of hope at the prospect of a rescue, others were wise enough to realise that these could well represent an even greater danger.

In one wagon, unnoticed by the guards, Katarina had just finished unlocking Gerard's chains.

"We can't stay here, we've got to go while they're distracted." Katarina raised her head above the top of the wagon and peered around, locating the two guards. As luck would have it one of them had run off towards the goods wagon, doubtless intent on saving his share of the plunder. The second had remained at his post and now stood less than two feet away with his back to her. No one else seemed to be paying them any attention, most of the raiders were still stirring from their slumber and the remainder were too pre-occupied with the blaze.

Katarina tore a length of cloth from her shirt and, before anyone had a chance to object, placed one foot on the rim of the wagon and launched herself at the guard. She landed full on the man's back, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She regained her feet first, leapt forward and landed full on his chest, both knees driving into the man's abdomen. The man's scream ended abruptly as her left hand clamped over his mouth, wedging the cloth in between his teeth. Straddling his waist with her legs she closed her left hand over his nose and applied more pressure.

Driven by both agony and terror the guard reached up for her throat, seeking to push her back and break the hold. His fingers found the soft skin of her throat, digging in painfully but she maintained the pressure.

How long the struggle lasted she did not know, nor could she explain why her action somehow went unnoticed, but she did not release her grip until the other lay still. Snatching up his knife and keys, she clambered back into the wagon.

"Pass these round and follow me when your free, we've got to get away from here quick."

"We'll need weapons." Gerard heaved himself up and made to swing himself over the edge.

"Leave that to us." Katarina motioned to Frederick and the two of them slipped over the rim again. Moving quickly they sped to the second prison wagon. This time they found both guards at their post, sheltering behind the wagon. Taking a stone Frederick leapt upon one figure, knocking the man senseless with two solid blows.

Katarina was right behind him. Clamping a hand over the second guard's mouth she drew the dagger across his throat, felt him spasm and let him fall to the ground. A quick search located the man's keys. These were tossed to a prisoner in the wagon. "Cut them loose and run!"

Behind her Frederick had drawn his enemy's sword and had a crossbow and quiver of bolts slung over his shoulder. Drawing the other guard's sword, she dashed back to their wagon to find Gerard being helped down by the pedlar. Most of the other prisoners were now running for the woods.

Katarina knelt down beside the first fallen guard and snatched up his crossbow just as a bolt flew past her head and slammed into the woodwork of the cart. "Run!"

With that everyone took to their heels, sprinting for the shelter of the trees.

--

"Ze prisoners are escaping!" Thork's voice thundered over the camp, drawing the attention of every bandit within earshot.

Raven Helm did not hesitate. It was not for nothing that his employer had chosen him as the leader of the band. A fighter he was, but he was also an experienced leader and well able to maintain his cool in a crisis. Seeing the new turn of events he paused. In less than ten seconds he had accepted the situation, formed a plan of action and moved to put it into action.

"Thork you take the constable and eight men. You follow those captives and stop their escape. You get as many alive as you can but make sure none escape. Understand!"

Thork nodded grimly; un-slung his great axe and sprinted after the prisoners

As Bertholdt turned to leave Raven Helm seized him by the shoulder. "Remember that our profits depend on those captives. Do not let him get carried away. And no matter what it takes you get that bloody Kurzwiel back alive!"

"Aye sir." Bertholdt sprinted after Thork. Raven Helm turned back to his remaining men. "What's happening here now?"

Several of them did not even look back, so intent were they on saving their prizes from the flames. Angus, however, was quick to respond to his leader's question.

"Nothing's happened since the wagon went up sir. Whoever did that is keeping quiet right now."

"Then this was meant as a diversion. Dammit!" He scanned the camp site for a moment. At the other end of the camp Thork and his party were already busy subduing the prisoners who had not been quick enough to vacate the second wagon. He could hear the screams of the women and the shouts of their men folk as the raiders brutally slapped their new charges and into submission.

"He's wasting time damn him! You two! Get over there and tell Thork to get after the prisoners. You two," he gestured to the two men nearest to the wagon, "keep unloading those goods. Once you've finished you secure what's left of those wagons and keep your crossbows at the ready. Angus you bring the rest of the men and follow me. I want two groups of three and one of four. We'll do a standard search pattern and sweep those bastards out. Let's go!"

The raiders followed their leader into the enveloping gloom of the trees.

--

OOC: I would like to day thanks for the review from Hepzibah-Falkenheim, its greatly appreciated. I admit it was a shame to kill Rhinehardt off but I feel a bit of character loss helps keep the story interesting-it's a reminder that these characters are tough but their also vulnerable and, in the warhammer world, danger lurks everywhere. As we may see later Joseph is a tough fighter but even he is not invincible. Also please keep the reviews coming, I welcome them all.

--


	31. There Will Be Blood Tonight

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am gaining no financial benefits from writing this story.

--

Thork might get carried away at times but he knew when to obey orders. Upon receipt of Raven Helms new instructions the party detailed to pursue the prisoners quickly subdued those who remained in the wagon and set off into the trees. They divided into three groups as they went. Three of them broke off to the left while Bertholdt took charge of another two and moved off to the right. Thork led the remaining four in the central group.

These three groups moved forward quickly and quietly in a covering pattern. Thork would lead his group forward first, the men spread out and scanning the area for signs of their quarry. When they had advanced several feet they would halt, ready their crossbows and wait as both flanking groups advanced. They were careful to always remain within sight of one another and to stay where they could provide mutual support if attacked.

Thork crouched low next to a crossbow armed raider, axe clutched to his chest, senses on full alert. Inside the man was fuming. To think they had been so close! That scum Kurzwiel had finally talked! Come the morning they would have retrieved the object their leader sought and would have been on their way again laden with plunder. Once rendezvousing with the ship the band would have been paid in full and headed back to Mordheim, free to indulge their whims within the city.

But of course things could never run to plan. With this retched attack half the goods they had seized were now going up in smoke and most of the captives had escaped. Well not if he had anything to do with it! He fully intended to hunt down every last one of the escapees, saving Kurzwiel for the last. Once he had that man he would thrash the truth out of him no matter how long it took. And once Raven Helm had routed out and apprehended their attackers he fully intended to interrogate the survivors personally-these bastards would pay for what they had done here tonight!

To his left one of the raiders fell back with a gasp of pain, hands clutching his chest.

"We're under fire!" another raider's shouted warning sent the remainder of the group diving for cover.

"Bertholdt, move seven!" Hearing Thork's command the former constable led his two men forward, stopping several meters from their current position. At the same time Thork's group raised their crossbow's and fired in the direction the bolt had most likely come from. They had no hope of hitting anything, the purpose of this move being to cover the other party's advance.

Dropping behind the trunk of a fallen tree Bertholdt cupped his hands and emitted a short, harsh squawk similar to that of a crow. At this signal Thork's group rose and sprinted forwards. They had not gone far when Thork felt something thud into the bark of a tree to his right.

_One._

His party continued their advance. To his left one man spun and fell. Thork glanced back and saw him clutching the feathered shaft in his left shoulder.

_Two. Can't have more than one shot left._

From these two shots he had a rough idea of where the bolts had come from. It was now or never.

"On us, converge fire two!" He leapt to his feet, un-slung his axe and leapt forward. His men followed him, brandishing shields and unsheathing scimitars. To his left both bandits rose and fired, to his right Bertholdt and his group did the same. Up ahead someone screamed, a sign that at least one bolt had hit home. Thork grinned at the expectancy of combat. _There will be blood tonight!_

--

Raven Helm's group advanced in similar fashion, their leader taking command of the central group of four whilst Angus assumed command of a three strong left flanking force. The remaining three spread out to the left. As before they advanced in a mutually supportive pattern; always careful to remain within sight of one another.

They had not gone far when the right flank force ran into trouble. As they rose to advance the man in the centre was struck in the chest. The arrow pierced his leather jerkin, driving on into his lung.

"Eric!" One of the others ran to him, stooping down to gently raise his shoulders. Eric was gasping already, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. "Just hold on mate, we'll get you back to camp."

Eric attempted a reply but could only manage a gurgled gasp, spewing a fresh stream of blood from his damaged lung.

"Don't talk just stay still!" It was too late. The light had already faded from his friend's eyes.

"No!" Enraged the raider leapt up in the direction the arrow had come from, crossbow at the ready.

"James, wait! We move together" He ignored the call of the third raider, anger driving him onwards to find his friend's killer.

In a small clearing up ahead he beheld their attacker, a cloaked figure bathed in moonlight. The figure looked up, met his gaze and ducked out of sight through the branches of a pair of young saplings.

"This way!"

He reached the trees in an instant, swore as his foot snagged something. One of the branches swung back and struck him the chest with such force it lifted him from his feet. He landed hard amidst the deadwood in the clearing.

His friend found him where he had fallen. The man was clearly dead, one hand grasping his chest, the fingers of the other dug into the ground. His crossbow lay several feet away, having slipped from hands as he fell.

It was easy to see what had happened, for the moonlight shone down into the clearing, illuminating the stake fixed to the low-hanging branch-a stake that still glistened with his blood.

--

Thork's group made rapid progress; dodging through the trees they quickly located their quarry. Frederick, one of the traveller's and the pedlar stood at the ready. The former brandished a scimitar, while the latter two held parts of broken branches. Travelling pedlars faced many hazards, from angry clients to bands of robbers. Anyone who stayed in the business for long quickly learnt to defend themselves.

"Onward!" Thork leapt over the fallen body that lay between them and made straight for Frederick. His men leapt up to follow him, each one marking out his own target, scenting an easy victory against these virtually unarmed men.

As they passed her position Katarina leapt out from behind a tree. Her arm flew up and came down. The knife struck the rearmost bandit in the back, as he staggered she followed up her move, her sword slicing him across the neck. With barely a pause she leapt after the other three.

--

"What happened here?" Raven Helm's anger was apparent to all.

"Eric was shot and James took off after his killer sir. I couldn't stop him."

"Did you see which way they went?"

"No sir, it was all over when I got here."

Raven Helm glanced back at the clearing where the body of the bandit still lay, illuminated by the moonlight. "We must move carefully, whoever is doing this may have other traps prepared. Pass the word."

A sudden gasp to the left caused both men to look round sharply. _What now?_

"Everyone hold fast! What happened?"

"Its Jonah, he's been shot."

_Damnit, we're being picked off here-oh for a little light!_ "Everyone, spread out as before-and this time we advance together, no one runs off."

--

Frederick dodged Thork's first blow, the impetus of the big man's charge carrying him past the warden. Frederick spun after him, sword aimed for a slash across the man's mid-section. Thork blocked the sweep with his axe, pushed his enemy back with a grunt and smacked the warden a blow in the chest as he fell back, almost winding him.

To his right the pedlar blocked his enemy's blow and kicked out desperately, aiming for the man's knee. Anticipating this move his assailant jerked back, pulled his sword clear and swung again. The pedlar leapt back desperately, feeling the blade tear a small cut in the fabric of his tunic.

The trader, less used to combat, fared less well. Somehow he managed the parry the strike aimed for his chest, attempted a repost that was easily turned aside and had his legs kicked from under him. He rolled as he hit the ground, saving himself from the strike that would have pierced his back.

By now Katarina was catching up. Descending upon the scene like an enraged harpy she swept her sword low, slicing the pedlar's opponent across the back of his legs. The bandit fell to his knees and the pedlar seized his chance to bring his makeshift club down on the man's head. Standing atop his fallen enemy the pedlar proceeded to beat him several times about the head until the man lay still.

The warrior woman did not pause to inspect her work. Even as the bandit was falling she had transferred her attentions to the trader's opponent. This bandit was in the ascendancy. With a two-handed strike he knocked the trader's club from his hands. Sensing victory he raised his sword to deliver the killing blow.

Katarina slashed him across the back of the legs. Her return slash struck the neck and opened an artery, spraying her with blood as the bandit fell backwards.

Up till now Frederick had managed to evade his enemy's blows. Retreating before the great Norseman he focussed entirely upon defence, waiting for an opening in his foe's defences.

His chance came when Thork, tiring of the game, moved in to finish things. Feinting a cut to the right, he spread his hands along the haft and swung it in a two handed cut aimed at the warden's side. Though surprised by the move Frederick reacted fast. Moving with the skill of a fencer he sprang back, feeling the blade slice through his leather jerkin. Shutting his mind to the possible results he sprang forward, grasped the sword in both hands and swung it. The blade opened up a deep gash in the Thork's side from shoulder to ribcage.

The blow seemed only to anger him. Growling with fury he swung the axe up and around, this time catching Frederick in the right calf. With a cry the warden fell, dropping his sword as his hands moved to grip the wound. With a cry of triumph Thork brought the axe up and over his head to deliver the killing blow.

--

Joseph watched his enemy from the branches of a nearby tree, observing them split into three groups again, two flanking groups of two men and a central group of three. _That's right gentlemen; please keep making my job easier._ He couldn't really fault their tactics, they simply had the bad luck to be tracking an enemy they couldn't see but who could see them perfectly. Noting the position of each group he quickly climbed down.

--

Katarina launched herself at the Norseman, her blade cutting him across the left leg. Thork gasped in pain and surprise, swinging round to face this new threat. Katarina was already on the attack, her scimitar meeting his axe.

Hindered by the wound in his leg Thork nonetheless managed hold his ground. He had the advantages in both strength and reach. Katarina proved to be faster and she had the advantage of being unwounded. For a moment they held their ground and traded blows, neither one able to gain the upper hand.

Katarina lunged. Thork stepped back, turned her blow aside and swung his axe round high at her head. Ducking beneath the blow she leapt to the left, slicing his chest as she went. With a roar of pain he switched his grip and swung for her. She leapt back, avoiding the blow and striking him sharply on the right forearm. Seeking to catch him before he could recover Katarina lunged, blade aimed for the heart.

Anticipating the blow Thork parried with the axe haft, locked their blades and forced her scimitar aside. Releasing his hold he backhanded her across the face. As she fell back he clenched his fist and delivered another heavy blow. Katarina's foot caught on a nearby tree root and she fell back heavily, wincing as her shoulder struck another root. Scenting victory Thork moved in for the kill.

--

Whilst this combat was taking place the remaining bandits had arrived on the scene. Bertholdt's group was first, with the remaining two outlaws only seconds behind. Taking in the scene before him Bertholdt gestured two of them forwards. "You two men put them down. We must find the others!"

One man raised his crossbow and took aim. The bolt struck him in the chest and hurled him backwards. His finger squeezed the trigger as he fell, the shot going off into the trees.

Bertholdt looked round, seeking the source of this missile.

Several meters away Gerard sighted the second crossbow and fired. The bolt struck Bertholdt in the shoulder, the impact spinning him round and throwing him to the ground. This second hit sent the last of the outlaws running for cover. Seeing Thork fighting alone and not knowing how many enemies were lying in wait, they decided discretion was the better part of valour and retreated to their camp.

--

The pedlar ran forward brandishing a scimitar. Thork knocked the blade aside and hacked him across the neck, almost decapitating the man.

Katarina seized her chance and kicked out, her foot catching the Norseman in the back. He stumbled. She drew her dagger and rammed it into his calf. Thork screamed. He seized her hand, hauled her up and head-butted her. Her vision swam. He punched her once, twice and threw her to the ground.

Thork gripped the dagger, grimacing as he pulled it clear. Through a haze Katarina saw him raise his arm, the dagger aimed at her. She tried to move but was still dizzy from the blows. _This is it_.

In the heat of combat both had forgotten about the second trader. As they fought he had hung back, waiting for his chance. Now, with Thork's attention fully occupied, he lunged. The scimitar took Thork in the back, the momentum of the lunge driving it on through his chest. The trader twisted the weapon hard, tearing loose more muscle and tissue as it turned.

Hands gripping the blade, Thork summoned all his strength and threw the man off his shoulder. Frederick seized a stone and threw it, the missile striking the bandit in the mouth. With blood now pouring from his wounds Thork finally sank to his knees.

Pushing herself off the ground, Katarina walked over and took up the Norseman's axe. Thork raised his gaze as she stood over him, blade held high. "For the villagers."

The axe swung down in one final arc.

--

OOC: I admit the fight between Katarina and Thork was somewhat modelled upon the fight between Lurtz and Aragorn on _Lord of the Rings-The Fellowship of the Ring_, although I have added my own touches. Hope the fight scene lives up to everyone's expectations as I found it a bit difficult to write. Not many chapters left to go now.

_Author's note:_ For anyone who may not know, a scimitar is a curved, one handed and single-edged sword that widens considerably towards the tip. To my knowledge it was a key weapon of Arabian soldiers during the Crusades. The raiders in this story are using a weapon with a thinner blade, but which nonetheless widens away from the hilt.


	32. And Then There Were Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am gaining no financial benefits from writing this story. I just enjoy it.

--

Mary paused for a moment, clutching the skin above her diaphragm as she struggled to catch her breath. Beside her the innkeeper's wife paused, giving the younger women a chance to rest. The second maid stopped a few feet away, still clutching the young boy in her arms.

"We...do you...think...they are...?"

"I don't know Mary, I hope they are alright," she glanced back at the forest but there was no sign of pursuit. "They told us to run and we must keep moving."" Neither woman was willing to give voice to their fears, that those who had stayed behind to buy them time had been overwhelmed. Their only hope now lay in flight. It was for this reason that the prisoners had dispersed once entering the forest, to minimise the chances of recapture.

Mary glanced at their companion. "Are you alright Milley?"

The other maid nodded wearily.

"Give him to me lass," the innkeeper's wife reached out to take the boy, "you need a rest."

Milley relinquished her burden gratefully. She'd had little sleep throughout their ordeal and had been carrying the boy ever since becoming a prisoner. Despite her efforts she had still been unable to coax him from his catatonic state.

"Let's get moving then." The three women took to their heels once again. None were aware of where they were heading, their only thought was to get as far away from pursuit as possible.

--

The party continued its advance, Joseph following in its wake. By now he was running low on arrows, having expended nearly half in the attack on the camp. Now more than ever he would have to make each shot count; kill as many as he could before fighting hand to hand. His best chance would be to eliminate both flanking groups and then focus on the centre.

The elf moved forward again. His eyes remained fixing on his target, one of the men in the right flanking force. He had been stalking these two for several minutes now, creeping forward when they stopped, pausing when they moved. It was a risky tactic but he could not risk alerting the central group until he was ready

Again the man stopped-time to make his move. He notched an arrow, sighted it and fired. At this range, despite the dark, he could not miss.

--

Borris trod carefully, shield held across his chest, scimitar held low and at the ready. To his right he could make out Roland's footsteps. His friend was slightly ahead of him, the link between himself and the main group.

The forest was quiet, eerily so, the only sound being the soft footfalls of the raiders as they advanced deeper into its depths in search of their prey. Advanced with mounting trepidation, for the task of stalking an unseen enemy through this eerily lit place was a deeply unsettling experience.

Suddenly he heard Roland's footfalls cease, a soft moan reaching his ears followed by the dull thud of something hitting the ground. With a sharp intake of breath he dropped, seeking out the shape of his friend.

"Roland, are you there?" He held his shield up, remembering the risk of ambush.

"I'm alright, do you see anyone?"

"No, still no sign," came the reply. Borris relaxed a little, turning his attention back to the forest.

Joseph's arrow struck him in the leg, his scream quickly bringing the others running.

It was Raven Helm who found Roland's body. The raider lay on his back, his throat slit. Beyond him Borris continued to groan with pain as others lifted him up and propped him against a tree. One of them tore a strip of fabric from his shirt as a makeshift bandage. "Keep still you fool, you'll only make it worse."

"Angus get over here, everyone else keep a lookout, they're close by!" Raven Helm glanced down at the wounded bandit. "Patch him up and then we fall back to the camp." They were getting picked off at random here. It was time to do what he should have done from the start-hold the camp and await daylight. That would even the odds considerably.

--

The right flanking force was moving to join them when Joseph struck. He'd narrowly avoided running into the central group and knew he had to act fast. As the two men came into view he notched his last arrow and let fly. The missile struck the nearest man in the chest, throwing him to the floor.

Angus swung his crossbow and fired, hoping for a lucky shot. From the depths of the darkness came a soft thud followed by a pained gasp.

"I've hit one!" he called in the direction of the others.

"Are you sure?"

"I've hit something."

"We'll take no chances, come back here."

"But sir..."

"Don't argue; we've lost too many men already. Are you both alright?"

"They got James."

"That seals it, get back her now."

Angus scanned the darkness. He knew he had not imagined the grunt; somehow his bolt must have struck someone. Part of him wanted to make sure of this, but if he hadn't there was the real risk that someone might be lying in wait for him. With one last glance at James's corpse he retreated back to the group.

--

Joseph grasped hold of the bolt and pulled it clear. The weapon had struck him in the chest above the fourth rib, knocking him backwards and sending him to the ground as his foot caught on the edge of a large rock. He ran a hand over the centre of impact. No blood. Powerful as it had been the bolt had not been able to pierce the scales of his cloak. He was still going to have a nasty bruise when this was over though, assuming he survived of course.

His last arrow had now been expended and there was no time to retrieve the others. Now it must be the sword. He had heard the exchange between the two humans and knew where they were heading. A plan was already forming in his mind, a plan that could either grant him victory or end in disaster.

_Only one way to find out. _Ducking low, he began a circular course that would take him ahead of his prey.

--

Gerard pulled the crossbow taught with some difficulty, inserted a bolt and fired at Bertholdt's struggling form. This one struck the constable in the leg, drawing another scream of pain from him.

_Payback's a bitch huh._ He glanced around the forest but could find no signs of further pursuit. Leaning on the broken branch-a makeshift crutch Katarina had found for him-he picked his way carefully towards the others.

--

The bandits were nearing their camp now, two of them supporting their wounded comrade. Angus was acting as point man, Raven Helm third in line with the remaining three behind him.

Joseph stared down at them, watching their path with some trepidation. His strategy now depended upon surprise. Up in these branches he could avoid detection as long as they didn't think to check the trees. Once the attack began speed and accuracy would be everything.

The first two men were armed with crossbows-they must be the first targets. The third man in line he recognised as the leader. As the head of the party he should be removed as quickly as possible. The wounded man would be of little threat, whilst the remaining two were busy supporting him. If he moved fast he could dispose of the first three before the others could act.

That was assuming they came close enough for a jump-attack-if not then, as humans sometimes put it, all bets were off.

--

"Let me see that."

Gerard pushed Katarina's hand aside and, before she could react, gave her nose a gentle prod.

"Hey!" she slapped his hand away angrily, clutching it again between thumb and forefinger to prevent further bleeding.

"Sorry, just checking. I don't think it's broken."

"It isn't. Next time just ask me!"

Gerard nodded. "That was quite a pounding you took just then."

"I've had worse."

_Why do I believe that?_ Their luck seemed to be holding so far. The bandits had been successfully seen off, but the price had been heavy. The body of the pedlar lay close by, Thork's cloak draped over him. A few meters further lay the second trader, cut down by a crossbow before the fight had begun. Frederick was propped up beside Katarina, a bandage fastened around his injured leg.

"How's your leg?" Katarina's voice pulled him from his reverie.

"It's not so bad; I reckon I can walk with this thing." He tapped the makeshift crutch with a grin, "so now what do we do?"

"I don't know. They've retreated but they may return. There must be at least a dozen left."

"Maybe, but let's not forget our uninvited guests. Did you see how many arrows were fired into that wagon?"

"No more than six, there can't have been many in that attack."

"Frederick," Gerard turned to the other warden, "didn't you say four of you patrol broke off from your column? Could it have been them?"

"I suppose, maybe," Frederick's face lit up with new hope, "if they found our trail then perhaps."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Katarina's tone was somewhat muffled with her fingers over her nose, "there's many dangers in this forest. Maybe we just encountered one."

"I suppose...where's Kurzwiel?"

Katarina's startled gaze met his. In the heat of their escape neither one had thought about the fugitive. Only now did their thoughts return to the one who had inadvertently brought them to this place.

"I didn't see him amongst the escapees."

"No," Gerard's expression turned back to the direction of the camp, "and he wasn't in the wagon when we escaped."

"You think he's still back there?"

"Probably."

_Great_. Katarina pushed herself up. "Guess that answers your question."

"What do you...you're not talking about going back there?"

"Of course, I never give up a bounty." She snatched up a crossbow and a quiver of bolts, swinging them over her shoulder.

Gerard studied her expression, noting her determination. "Alright, wait for me."

"Don't be ridiculous, you couldn't walk to the camp let alone fight."

"This is not the first time I've fought with a wound. Of course if you think you could defeat the raiders by yourself if they find you."

Her irritation was easy to read. _Men! Never think with their heads_. "Get the crossbow, and if we run into trouble you stay behind me."

"Don't worry about me woman it's you I'm concerned about."

"Concerned?" she stared at him with mild surprise.

"Of course, right now you're the best fighter we've got and we need you around." He turned and tossed a crossbow to the trader. "If that guy so much as sneezes," he gestured to Bertholdt, "shoot him. Try and keep him alive though, I want to interrogate him when we get back."

The trader nodded, braced his feet on the crossbeams and pulled the string back. "I'll watch him."

--

The bandits never saw Joseph coming. As they passed under the tree the elf leapt down, dagger drawn. He struck Raven Helm hard, both feet landing on the man's shoulders. Joseph rolled as he hit the ground, coming to his feet and lunging for the second man in line. Seizing the bandit Joseph rammed the dagger into the man's neck, blood spraying his face as he pulled the blade clear.

Taken by surprise the bandits were slow to react. Angus turned and fired. Joseph jumped sideways, jerking the struggling bandit to the right. The bolt struck the man in the chest. Joseph threw him aside, brought his arm up and swung it down. Angus fell back, the dagger protruding from his right eye.

Behind him a twig snapped underfoot. He dropped, the sword whistling through the air above his head. He jerked backwards, elbowing the bandit in the stomach. His right leg swept round, cracking the man across the knee. Seizing him by the sword arm Joseph pulled hard. His leg trapped in position, the bandit could not move to counter the trip. As he hit the floor Joseph flattened his hand and struck the man a sharp blow in the throat. He heard the soft crack as the cartilage snapped, released his hold and rolled aside.

The remaining man's sword struck his shoulder, glancing off the scaled cloak. Joseph came to his feet, blocking another strike with his vambrace. Swinging back his left foot he dropped into a fencing stance, tensed and sprang. His right arm pushed aside his opponent's sword. Using a style he had learnt in distant Cathay he snapped his left arm forward and struck the man palm first on the nose. The impact of the blow snapped the cartilage, pushing it back into the bandit's brain. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The sound of clapping reached his ears. "Impressive elf, I see rumour has not exaggerated your skills."

Raven Helm stood several feet from him, sword in hand. Behind him the injured raider lay on his side, one hand pressed to his leg. To his left Joseph could hear soft gargling as the man he had struck in the throat thrashed around in pain, coughing blood from his crushed throat.

"Really, I didn't realise I was that well known."

"Anyone in our line of work will attract some fame when they work for your employer."

"Our line of work. What is that supposed to mean?" Joseph regarded him critically. "Unless there's more to this than meets the eye. Tell me, what are you really doing here?"

"Professionals never discuss their work elf, you know that."

"Well call it professional courtesy. You might as well tell me because I promise one of us won't be leaving here alive."

"Well I suppose when you put it like that. What I can tell you is that we have a common goal, we simply work for different people."

"So you're after the stone as well. I must say I was wondering why you had such a special interest in Kurzwiel. Well I suppose word inevitably gets out on something like this. Care to tell me more?"

"Sorry but it wouldn't be very professional of me to say more."

"That's okay; I can guess who you're working for. It figures there'd be a political motive behind this."

"There always is elf; otherwise we'd be out of work."

"That's true. Well enough talk," Joseph reached behind his back and drew his sword, "let's finish this."

"As you wish."

Both men dropped into their fighting stances, turning sideways on to one another. Raven Helm gripped his sword in both hands, holding it vertical with the hilt at shoulder height. Joseph held his sword over his left shoulder, his left palm pressed against the hilt and the point aimed directly at his opponent.

For a moment both were still, each assessing the other's stance. Then, as though prompted by a signal they alone could hear, they sprang forward.

They're blades clashed in a shower of sparks.

--


	33. The Duel

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or Games Workshop and I am gaining no financial benefits from writing this story.

--

Kurzwiel ran on through the forest, the fear of recapture driving him on to the limit of endurance.

_Must get to the village!_

The thought replayed in his mind over and over again. So far he had withstood all the interrogations and the bandits had apparently bought his story of the false location of the stone. But he knew it would not be long before they discovered the lie. Just as he knew he could not hold out forever. He had to get away now.

He sprinted on grimly, occasionally pausing to glance at the canopy in an effort to locate the two moons. It was proving difficult but he was hoping to use their position to guide him in the direction of the village. He had to get there, had to retrieve the stone and get away.

As he ran he felt a pang of regret concerning the fate of the others, if the bandits found them then they could expect no mercy. But now his mission took priority. Nothing else mattered.

--

The combatants spun apart, blades held overhead. With great care they began to pace to their right, mindful of the stones that could trip a fighter, each gaze locked firmly on the other. Joseph was the first to move, his blade feinting down to the left. As Raven Helm's blade moved to block he twisted his wrist, changing the angle into a thrust for the chest.

Raven Helm surprised him, the man's sword rising to knock his own aside. As Joseph shifted position Raven Helm countered with a lunge of his own, sweeping past his guard to strike him in the chest only to be turned aside by the scaled cloak. Joseph countered with a couple of fast strikes, each of which was avoided. Raven Helm struck back with a series of rapid cuts to the body. His blade awhirl, Joseph parried them.

Again both combatants fell back and began to circle.

_This human is good-too good. _It had been a long time since he'd met someone who moved that fast. And the way his sword moved, almost as though he knew what Joseph was going to do. _Can't be, no human is that good._

This time Raven Helm made the first move, blade held high. Joseph blocked and reposted. Raven Helm parried. The two of them danced their deadly duel; blades' throwing up sparks as they clashed.

They were well matched. Joseph gave a good account of himself-he was strong, fast and quick-footed. Raven Helm found it impossible to land blow on him. And yet the human moved with extraordinary skill, his blade matching the elf's at every turn. Despite his skill Joseph found himself unable to break his opponent's guard.

Locking hilts Raven Helm pushed hard. As Joseph countered Raven Helm punched him across the face. Taken by surprise Joseph fell back. Raven Helm forced his blade up, smacking the elf in the jaw with the hilt. Joseph flung himself backwards. His right foot kicked out as he fell. Raven Helm took the blow in the face, the force bowling him over.

Joseph regained his feet first, lunging for his enemy. Raven Helm's blade blocked his own; the bandit leader kicked out at the elf's knees in an effort trip him. Anticipating the move Joseph went into a midair cartwheel, lifting his feet clear of the kick. As he landed the elf reached into his cloak and whipped out a knife.

Raven Helm lifted his sword desperately, seeking to deflect the missile. In part he was successful, catching it on his sword and diverting it clear of his throat. However the blade still caught his face, opening a gash along the left cheek. Still off balance Raven Helm could not recover quickly enough. Joseph's foot struck him in the chest, propelling him backwards. He hit the ground with a thud, his sword falling from his grasp. As he fell the chin-strap of his helm came loose, sending it tumbling free of his head. Joseph's sword pressed against his throat and he stared up into a pair of cold eyes visible even under the shadows of the trees.

"This fight is mine. Pick up your sword and try again."

Raven Helm clambered to his feet, hands reaching for his helm. Joseph kicked it out of his grasp, sending the head gear tumbling across the forest floor. "Leave that, in a duel you'd do best to keep a clear head-in both respects." His sword came to rest across the bandit's neck. "My patience is wearing thin human-get your sword or die on your knees."

Raven Helm hesitated, and then reached for his weapon. He scrambled to his feet and assumed a combat stance.

Joseph moved first, sword feinting left, and then striking right.

Raven Helm jumped sideways to avoid the strike. His repost was easily parried and Joseph slashed him across the belly, his sword slicing through fur, leather and flesh. The bandit fell back, clutching his stomach in pain. For the first time he felt fear begin to tug at his heart.

"Is something wrong? You were much more challenging a moment ago. Didn't think I kicked you that hard."

"I'm not beaten yet elf, come on!"

He lunged at Joseph, blade held high. The elf sidestepped and slashed him across the back as he went past. Raven Helm staggered, hand still clasped across his stomach. By now the furs over the wound were thick with blood and he was finding it difficult to stand.

"Humans, a few small cuts and you're no challenge at all." Joseph held his sword out, point first at his opponent. "Surrender now and I'll let you live."

Raven Helm turned slowly, leaning on his sword. His gaze met that of the elf. The two opponents glared at one another. In the eyes of one there was a mixture of emotions-anger, determination and disbelief. The gaze of the other was void, not a single trace of emotion could be read in its eyes or face.

"Never!"

With a scream of rage Raven Helm lunged. This time Joseph met him head on, locked hilts and punched him in the stomach. The bandit fell backwards and Joseph's thrust took him through the heart.

Raven Helm sank to his knees, his head falling backwards to face the sky. The last thing he saw was the pale light of the two moons-the red of Morslieb and the white of Manslieb-shining down through the gaps in the canopy of the forest. Then the moonlight was eclipsed.

_Bloody silly place to die_.

Joseph watched his body fall backwards, raised his sword in salute and turned away. Retrieving his knife he moved over to the raider he had struck in the throat. The man had managed to rise to his feet and was now attempting to get away from the carnage. Joseph took aim and the raider fell, the blade wedged between his shoulders.

"Bastard!"

Without thinking Joseph threw himself sideways. He rolled as he landed, coming to his feet and darting behind the nearest tree. As he went he caught sight of the wounded raider, crossbow aimed in his direction.

The man squeezed the trigger, the bolt flying wide off target. Joseph leapt out, raised his sword and threw it, taking the man through the chest. The bandit stared down at the gleaming blade in disbelief. The light slowly faded from his eyes and he fell forwards.

Joseph retrieved his weapons, checking the bodies for signs of life as he went. There was none.

_Well that takes care of one problem. Now for the next._

As he set off for the camp the elf ran his fingers through his hair, grunting with annoyance as he discovered several severed strands where a sword had struck his shoulder. _I really hate it when that happens_. _Perhaps I should start tying it back_.

--

OOC: Hope this meets expectations, long fight scenes always give me trouble as I find it difficult to get the details right. Please read and review.

--


	34. The Final Clash

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer and I am gaining no financial benefits from writing this story.

--

Katarina moved slowly through the forest from tree to tree, her crossbow at the ready. Gerard hobbled along in her wake, the sound of his crutch uncomfortably loud. _Why did I let him talk me into letting him come?_ _I should have left him behind_.

"Can't you keep that thing quiet? Anyone nearby will hear it."

"Excuse me, I am doing my best."

"Losers always whine about their best."

"Well do you have any solutions?"

"Yeah, you shut up and wait here. I can scout out the camp without your help."

"Nothing doing miss! Those bastards killed my partner; I only stop when they're dead."

Katarina fell silent at these words and the two of them continued their trek. Eventually she spoke in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry about Rhinehardt. He seemed like a decent man."

"He was loud-mouthed bad tempered git...and he was also my friend."

"Had you known him long?"

"About a year, we met when I first came to Mordheim. He took me under his wing, taught me how to survive in this world. But for him I doubt I would be here."

"I'm sorry." Ursun's Teeth! How inadequate those words sounded. She had heard them before, had experienced what he was feeling right now herself. And she had seen others go through it all too often. Words were never adequate. But what else could one do.

"That's life woman," his tone was flat, devoid of bitterness, "he knew this might happen, we both did. And we were prepared for it." Gerard stumbled as his crutch snagged a tree root, but he managed to keep his balance.

"If you don't mind my asking," she hesitated for a moment, "what happened to his eye?"

At first Gerard did not answer, and Katarina guessed he did not wish to talk any further. Her thoughts returned to the task at hand, only to be interrupted by the warden's voice.

"He didn't like to talk about it really, but he did tell me a few details. About twelve years back he served in the north, a mercenary employed by the Ostland army. One day a warlord of the Kurgan tribes led his people through the Kislev lands, looting and burning everything in their path. They were stopped when they came to border between Kislev and Ostland at a small fort named of Alt Germac. The warlord decided to besiege the fort rather than go round it; exactly why he did this no one knows."

"I know the battle you speak of," Katarina dipped her head in reverie, "the fort held out for three days. On the morning of the fourth day a fresh assault began. The Kurgans had gained a foothold on the walls when a force of our Lancers rode over the hill. Their charge broke the Kurgan's back and scattered them. It is said few escaped."

"Yes. Rhinehardt served as an outrider for the fort, his job being to convey messages to its advance posts. When the siege began he risked his life by slipping out during the night with a message for the Boyar in command of those lancers. It was the only hope the fort had, for it would have taken too long to get word to the elector count. He took two men with him; but he was the only one to get through the lines. He delivered the message and saved the fort."

"And his eye?"

"That happened later, he was ordered to return to the fort and bring them word of the relief force. He made it back through the lines but when he reached the secret door he was ambushed by a pair of Kurgans. Rhinehardt managed to kill one of them but the second one gauged his eye out with a sword strike. He was knocked unconscious but, fortunately, the gate guards heard the scuffle and got him to safety."

"So he saved the fort. Did they reward him for it?"

"Yes-he was due to be tried for getting drunk and punching out the commander of the fort two nights previously. They dropped the charge and gave him some gold for his troubles."

"Is that all?"

"He could well have been hung, and the commander had to keep face in front of the men. I don't think Rhinehardt was really bitter about it though. He told me that in his own way the commander was trying to give him a fitting reward-his own life."

"What else can one hope for in this world?"

"Indeed," Gerard glanced up as a flickering light came into view between the trees, "it seems we have arrived.

Katarina nodded grimly. "We'll go in quietly, I'll go first and you follow. No Shooting until we know what we are up against. That okay with you?"

Gerard bowed and made a gentle sweep with his hand, "After you my lady."

She spun round, her stance radiating irritation, "my name is Katarina."

He gave a thin smiled, "after you then Katarina."

--

The camp guards were all crouched around the two prison wagons. What loot they had been able to save from the third wagon, by now a blazing pyre, had been secured and they were awaiting the return of Raven Helm and his party. Once their leader had returned with the others they expected to be ordered to pursue the escaped prisoners.

There were five men in total-the two left behind by Raven Helm and the three survivors of Thork's party. The great Norseman's defeat had alarmed them all and they had taken shelter in the shadows of the wagons, unwilling to leave their prizes but equally unwilling to pursue an enemy strong enough to defeat Thork.

One of them, a man named Aelfrith, scratched his black beard and glanced at his closest colleague Alfred. The man was currently peering over the wagon rim in search of potential enemies, crossbow held close to his chest. Beyond him sat the three men who had returned from the hunt. Though it was too dark to see their faces he knew they were frightened, knew it because that was how he felt. Aelfrith had seen battle before, had faced outlaws and beast men on more than one occasion. He was not afraid of going into battle, of risking his life in open combat. But sitting here, not knowing what would happen, just waiting for his enemy to make the first move, was becoming too much to bear.

He knew that all soldiers felt this way at times like this-the calm before the storm. It was when fear was most likely to strike.

"Do you see anything?"

"No," Alfred's voice was hushed, betraying his own nervousness; "if they are out there then they're keeping a low profile."

"Do you think they'll come back for the others," by this Aelfrith meant the three men and three women currently chained in one of the wagons, those who had not been able to get away before Thork's party had reached them.

"Not if they've got any sense. They're just a bunch of villagers; my guess is they'll want to get as far away as possible."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the man nearest to him pitched backwards with a cry. Glancing down at him in shock Aelfrith saw the bolt protruding from the man's left eye.

"What the..?"

The men had barely registered this new shock when another guard was brought down, this time with a strike to his ribcage, the bolt pierced his lung and lodged in his heart.

"That's it I'm getting out of here," Alfred rose to his feet and ran, making for the other end of the camp.

"Yeah wait for me," Aelfrith followed his comrade's path. Before long both men had disappeared into the shadows.

Behind them the remaining guard saw their retreat, hesitated and then took to his heels as well. He had only gone a few feet when the next bolt struck him in the chest and he fell with hardly a sound.

--

From his vantage point in the trees Gerard watched their retreat. _Run all you want, I'll find you somehow_.

--

TBC.


	35. A Mistake?

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop merchandise and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story.

--

From her hiding place within the shelter of the trees Katarina observed the flight of the last two guards.

_That just leaves another dozen, now where the hell are they?"_

During her time in captivity she had taken the opportunity to assess the band's strength and knew that the men they had killed made up only one half of the enemy's strength.

The lack of guards at the camp had surprised her, for she had been expecting to meet a larger force. Not that it mattered of course; this would just make her job much easier. It seemed most likely that the raiders were pre-occupied with whoever had attacked their camp earlier that night. Katarina had no idea who it was that had, by way of their attack, given the prisoners their chance of freedom and in truth she did not care. All she knew was that the camp was now deserted and she needed to move fast before the victors of this unknown battle returned to claim the spoils.

The prisoners were just visible, lashed within the confines of nearest wagon but at this distance it was too dark to make out Kurzwiel's figure. She was going to have to move in quickly. Cupping her right hand to her lips Katarina emitted two bird-like tweets and cocked her ear, listening carefully. After a minute she heard an answering two tweets from somewhere off to her left.

That would be Gerard. Before their attack the two of them had discussed a few possible signals that would hopefully allow them to communicate with each other without alerting the enemy. That signal would tell him that she was moving into the camp and would require him to keep watch. Pulling back hard on the lever she slipped a bolt into position and advanced slowly, all senses on full alert.

She failed to spot the figure that had appeared from amongst the trees at the other end of the camp, the figure that was now moving forward with a crossbow trained in her direction.

--

Gerard had also failed to spot the newcomer. With the departure of the remaining raiders both he and Katarina had made the serious, if forgivable mistake of letting their guard down. Consequently it was not until the newcomer was halfway into the camp that Gerard finally saw him.

The warden had no time to think, seeing the crossbow levelled at Katarina he simply reacted. Raising his own weapon he sighted it and fired, the bolt whistling through the air to strike the figure in the chest. Dropping its weapon it slumped to the ground.

--

Joseph knew he had no time to spare to retrieve his arrows. Placing his bow back into its quiver he took up one of the fallen bandit's crossbows and slung a quiver of bolts over one shoulder. When he arrived at the camp he found the place deserted without a sign of life present.

A closer look quickly located the five men clustered around the wagons at the far end. Finding no other bandits present he decided to risk moving in closer. Setting the crossbow aside the elf dashed forward and quickly reached the goods wagon. This wagon was still burning heavily, all attempts to put out the fire having long since been abandoned. Several cloth sacks lay some distance beyond, and judging by the scorch marks on some of them these represented what the bandits had been able to salvage before everything had gone up in smoke.

By keeping the blaze between himself and the bandits he managed to avoid being seen. Once he was close enough he risked a glance from behind the wagon. Now he could make out the forms of half a dozen people inside the guard's wagon, doubtless prisoners who had not managed to run in time. He could guess where the other bandits had gone, for Joseph had had plenty of time to observe the developments in the camp before beginning to stalk Raven Helm's group.

The position of the guards puzzled him though. They were all sheltering on the side nearest to him and each of them had a crossbow loaded and ready. Each one seemed focussed on the direction the prisoners had escaped to, only diverting the occasional glance back in his direction.

_Why are they behaving like that?_ His attack had come from the opposite direction; the only occurrence on that side of the camp had been the flight and pursuit of the prisoners. Why should they be more concerned about fleeing unarmed prisoners than a potential enemy? Were they that confident that their leader could deal with the new threat?

_Well if they are going to be that lax then I suppose I should take the initiative._

Deciding that his current position was too exposed for an attack the elf retreated away from the blaze into the shadow of the forest. Retrieving the crossbow he pulled the string back into the slot using the lever on the underside of the stock and slid a bolt into place. Checking the sights on the weapon he next allowed his thoughts to turn to tactics.

His best chance would be to repeat his earlier manoeuvre. If he took down one guard then one of three things were likely to occur. First the remaining bandits might retreat around the other side of the wagons and sit tight whilst they waited for reinforcements. If that happened then he could simply circle their position again and pick them off at will.

Alternately they might break and run, in which he would have to follow them to check how far they went. If they ran beyond a certain distance then he could turn back for the camp and look for his quarry. Finally they might attempt to pursue him as their leader had done, in which case it should be easy enough to pick them off as he had the others. Given their current condition the second outcome seemed most likely.

His decision made he began to edge to the left, with one eye fixed on the guards and the other alert for other possible dangers.

He had moved no more than a few feet when the attack began. Two guards dropped almost before he realised what was happening. Ducking behind a tree trunk he was able to observe the flight of the remaining three bandits, seeing the last one felled by another bolt as he ran.

_Well now, this is an interesting development_.

He watched the camp carefully, his elven eyes picking out the figure that materialised from the shadows and advanced on the wagons. Detecting no other figures in the vicinity Joseph decided to investigate. Leaving the shelter of the tree he walked from tree to tree, crossbow trained on the newcomer and eyes constantly scanning his surroundings for new threats.

Joseph moved slowly, mindful that in the combined glare of the moons and the blazing wagon any sudden movements on his part were more likely to be detected than slow ones. He was halfway through the camp before he recognised Katarina.

_This explains a few things._

The elf lowered his crossbow, knowing that he was unlikely to need it now. If she had returned then the prisoners must have somehow overpowered their guards. It also meant that Kurzwiel must still be here, for why else would the woman come back?

_Well the next question is how do I deal with the competition?_

The bolt struck him in the chest just below the heart, the force of the blow driving the air from his lungs. With a gasp he fell to his knees.

--

TBC.


	36. The Aftermath

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop franchise and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story. Not that I couldn't use the money of course!

--

When Katarina saw what had happened she quickly ducked back behind the wagon, signalling for the prisoners to remain where they were. Reaching up she handed the keys to the nearest prisoner.

"Unlock everyone. If anything happens run for it, but until then stay where you are, understood?"

He nodded. "Understood."

Katarina swept her gaze across the surrounding area. The newcomer lay where he had fallen, to all intents lifeless. At any moment she expected the rest of the force to materialise out of the darkness. To her surprise no one came. No movement could be discerned amidst the flickering shadows and no sound disturbed the night save for the crackling from the burning wagon.

_Strange, where are the others?_

Had Gerard's shot sent them into hiding-more than likely, for none of them would risk staying where the light of the flames would expose their presence. But why had she not seen any? Surely if the bandits had returned victorious from battle they would not have expected to meet resistance in their own camp. So why send only one of their group on ahead? It made no sense.

Could he have been sent back to get reinforcements? Possibly, in which case she had to move quickly before more of them came back. Placing a foot on the step of the wagon she checked its occupants. No sign of Kurzwiel, evidently the fugitive had made his escape.

"All of you get out of here. Are any of you from the village?"

One tall woman in a brown dress, whom Katarina recognised as the village healer, raised her hand.

"Your friends said they were heading for the caves, do you know where they meant?"

"I do."

"Then lead the others there; move quickly before the bandits return!"

As the prisoners made their escape Katarina moved to check on the fallen figure. Best to discover the man's identity and find out whether they were dealing with more bandits or with a new enemy. Her advance was slow and cautious, mindful that there could still be other enemies watching her movements. She just hoped that Gerard had realised the same thing.

The figure lay on its front, one arm flung out and the other clutched under its chest. Silver hair splayed out across its back, glinting in the light of the flames. Her curiosity quickly turned to horror as she recognised the scaled cloak worn by Joseph. _Oh no!_

Abandoning caution she rushed to the fallen elf's side, rolling him over to check the wound. The bolt rolled clear, the iron point glinting as it fell into a shaft of moonlight. Joseph's eyes flickered open, his cold gaze meeting hers.

"That bloody well hurt you know!" Brushing her hands aside he clambered to his feet.

"But...but aren't you..?"

"It will take a lot more than that to pierce this cloak woman," Joseph patted the point where he had been struck. Looking closely she could see that the scales were all intact, could see that despite its strength the iron-tipped bolt had failed to penetrate them.

"Impressive. Where did you find that? I've never seen anything like it before."

"You wouldn't have, this is fashioned from the hide of a sea dragon, and you won't find any of them near the Old World."

_A sea dragon?_

Joseph marched past her, moving towards the wagons. "Would you mind calling your friend off, I have no wish to be turned into a pin cushion."

"I expect he thought you were one of the bandits."

"Well he was wrong; they are all dead now including the leader. I gather that you have disposed of the rest."

"That is so. Gerard reckons that we accounted for all but three of the ones who pursued us. I don't suppose it was you who helped us escape with those burning arrows was it?"

"I merely wished to draw the bandits away woman, your escape was nothing but a coincidence."

Katarina snorted with contempt, "can't say I'm surprised, how many did you take out?"

"Ten of them altogether, between us I'd say we've accounted for them all save the two that escaped."

"Do you think they'll come back for more?"

Joseph shrugged, "not if they have any sense. Ah here comes my executioner." By this time Gerard had come into view, supporting himself on his crutch.

"I'm glad to see you're okay elf."

Joseph's eyes narrowed, "you could have fooled me, and you also know you could have pierced my heart."

"Look, I'm sorry for that but I couldn't see you properly and I thought you were one of them."

Joseph calmed himself with an effort. Human eyesight was much poorer than his own and it was quite likely that in the poor light his dress had been confused with the bandit's fur cloaks. And besides there were more important matters to attend to.

"Well warden, let us say all is forgiven, now to business. Tell me, do you have Kurzwiel in your possession?"

Katarina shook her head, "we have not seen him since before the escape. He was not in any of the wagons, which is why I came back here."

"So the quarry has eluded us it seems," Joseph paused for a moment and then shrugged, "no matter, I dare say I can track him come the dawn."

"Track him," Gerard's tone was disbelieving, "you don't even know where he has gone."

"I can guess where he has gone warden. You will recall that after I interrogated him I told you where he had hidden the stone? Well the morning after the village was attacked I took the opportunity to investigate that spot, which he described very accurately. As I suspected it was a lie and I found nothing. My guess is that he hid that stone somewhere near the village and it is there that I will find him," he glanced from Katarina to Gerard, "will you attempt to pursue him or will seek out the prisoners?"

Gerard traded looks with Katarina, "the villagers know where they are going, they say that weapons and stores are kept in some underground barrows south of the village in case of emergencies and with the bandits either dead or fleeing I doubt they will need our help. I will begin searching for him in the morning."

Katarina nodded. "I will come with you. We should use this time to gather weapons and horses from the camp. If we secure the rest then the villagers can return for them later."

The warden nodded, "I agree, we will set off at first light, and you," he turned to Joseph, "will you come with us?"

"No," Joseph retrieved the crossbow, which had discharged when he had dropped it, "as I told you before I work alone. I may have helped you when the occasion demanded it but the bounty is mine and if I am to claim it then I must find our quarry first." He swung the weapon over his shoulder and turned to leave, "I wish you both luck."

"Wait," Gerard pulled him up short, "you evidently escaped the village, did...anyone else escape with you."

Joseph saw the real question behind those words. "I am sorry Gerard, your partner is dead. I placed his body with the others in one of the huts; you will have to do the burying yourself though."

"There were some guards left at the village."

"Yes but I took care of them, now farewell."

"Now just a minute," Katarina strode after Joseph and angrily and seized his shoulder, "if you think I'm going to let you take my prize you've got another thing coming!"

Joseph struck out with one hand, pushing her back and breaking her grip. Angrily Katarina reached for her scimitar, but Joseph was faster. One minute he was standing there with the crossbow slung over his shoulder, the next there was a flash of metal and the tip of his sword was resting against Katarina's throat.

"That's right reach for it warden!" the elf's tone was cold.

Gerard paused, hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "I swear if you harm her."

"I have never harmed a woman save in self-defence, am I going to need to do so tonight?"

His gaze locked firmly with Katarina's glare. After weighing up her chances she lowered her hands. "No, I will not try to impede you elf."

"Pleased to hear it woman," he returned his sword to its scabbard. "You know you could always try to track him tonight, just to be fair I could put you on his trail. If you start now you might even be able to beat me."

"I do not require assistance from you." Her gaze returned to Gerard, who was now leaning heavily upon his crutch, "and I cannot set out right now, his leg needs medical attention."

Joseph studied her carefully, a curious expression on his face. "If I may venture some advice I would not entangle yourself further with him until this is over, it is not a good idea to develop emotional ties with someone when you are on a hunt."

Gerard's eyes widened at this, and if looks could kill then Katarina would have sent Joseph on his way to the realm of Morai-Heg.* "You imbecile! I am merely keeping my word, I promised that I would assist him and that is what I will do. In return I will expect him to assist me in achieving my goal!"

The elf shrugged indifferently, "if you say so, now please excuse me," he turned to go, hesitated, then turned back to face Gerard, "when I left Rhinehardt he was alive and well-in the company of that traitorous constable. And it from the look of his wound he was struck down with an axe." With that he strode away and was soon lost from sight.

Katarina watched him go. _Blast that elf!_

--

Aelfrith paused for breath, leaning heavily against a tree trunk, "come on Alfred let's take a breather. We must have outrun them by now."

"We can't stop long. If they have pursued us they won't be far behind."

"Alright but just give me a minute."

"Very well." Alfred hefted the crossbow in his hands, scanning the forest for signs of pursuit. In truth he was feeling just as breathless as his friend but he knew they had to put as much distance between themselves and the camp as possible if they were to escape. Once clear they would have to obtain some horses somehow and make their way to the nearest town. From there they could work out what to do next-either return and report to the baron or strike out for somewhere else. Personally he was favouring the second option right now-the baron would not be pleased to learn of his recent loss in both men and profits, or of their failure to accomplish their mission to retrieve the stone. "Say when your rea..."

His words died in his throat as, glancing around their position, he suddenly caught sight of a pair of eyes looking directly at them from the shadow of a nearby bush. He could not make out their owner, just the eyes themselves-eyes that glowed bright red in the pale moonlit forest.

"Who goes there?" he trained the crossbow on the eyes, heard the snap as Aelfrith slipped the safety catch off his own weapon, "answer me!"

The only reply was a nervous chittering sound. For a moment all was still, and then the eyes began moving towards them.

Both men squeezed their triggers and the thing screamed with pain as both bolts struck it, the red eyes vanishing from view. Shouldering their crossbows, both men drew their swords.

"Alfred, let's get the hell out of here."

"Aye, right now."

The two of them turned to run, only to freeze in their tracks as the wood seemed to come alive around them. A dozen pairs of eyes suddenly appeared in their path. Glancing around they saw that they were now surrounded, surrounded by a wide circle of glowing red eyes.

And the eyes were closing in.

--

OOC: _Author's note:_* Where the men of the Empire have Morr, God of Death, the High Elves have Morai-Heg the Crone, goddess of the Underworld and Keeper of Souls. She knows the future and holds fate within her palm. It is she who decides when it is time for an individual to live or die and her servants are Banshees whose wail is said to foretell death. The High Elves believe that an elf who withstands this wail will find immortality. This information was published in one of the old editions of the High Elf army books-I forget which edition it was, but it was published by Games Workshop in 1997 and introduced a great deal of information about the history and culture of the High Elves. I find that its chronology remains one of the most useful in terms of dates.

--

TBC.


	37. Back To The Village

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story.

--

Dawn was just beginning to break as Kurzwiel finally reached the village. The pale light began to slowly encroach upon the ruined scene. It illuminating the lone figure as he ran across the clearing, casting nervous glances in all direction as he entered through the open gates. Up ahead he could make out the blackened rubble of the White Hart and beyond it the still intact forms of the huts.

There was no sign of life as he entered, nor were there any dead bodies to be seen, despite the smell of death that hung heavily in the air. A number of black birds watched him from various perches atop one of the huts to his left. As he approached something leapt out from behind the hut and darted away. Squinting after it he made out the russet fur and bushy tail of a fox.

The smell of death was very strong around this hut, but he had no time to investigate the reason. Making his way through the village as quickly as possible, Kurzwiel headed directly for the barn. As he entered he spotted a dark stain upon the floor just inside the doorway, most likely blood, although there was no body to be seen.

_No time for that, now where did I put it?"_

Moving along the right hand side he ducked into the third stall and went to the back right corner. Brushing the straw aside he proceeded to dig with his fingers, sifting through the earth until he felt his fingertips make contact with something hard. With great care he dug out the wooden box, heaving a sigh of relief when he saw that the seal he had placed across its opening was unbroken.

_My thanks to the gods!_

Swiftly exiting the stall he turned his mind to his next course of action. First he had to get away from here, the bandits and bounty hunters were bound to look for him here once it was discovered he had escaped. Somehow he had to get hold of a horse and get as far away from this place as possible. The burgomaster had spies everywhere and he could not chance being discovered again. He must make his way to one of the neighbouring provinces and turn the stone over to a priest. The church of Sigmar would know what to do with this blasphemous relic.

--

Some distance away two more people were riding in his direction. Katarina rode ahead, a scimitar fastened to one side of her saddle, a crossbow and quiver to the other. Her fight axe, which had been salvaged from the goods wagon, was strapped to her side. Gerard rode behind her, a sword strapped to his side and his crossbow slung over the saddle.

"Are you sure we should start looking in the village?"

Katarina glanced back at him, "we cannot tell his trail from any of the others and we know he is most likely to head there. It is the logical place to begin out search. And there will be other matters to attend to there."

Gerard nodded grimly; he knew what she was referring to. They had discussed their plans the previous night as she attended to his leg, which had begun to bleed again. At his insistence Katarina had used a heated knife to seal the wound. It had been extremely painful but the wound had held up well since then.

It was agreed they would begin their trek to the village at dawn and commence searching from there. After snatching a couple of hours sleep they had saddled two of the horses left in the camp, and had now been riding for half an hour. But their pace was slow, too slow. Kurzwiel had a sizeable head start on them and to have any chance of finding him they had to go faster than this. With a gentle tap of his feet Gerard urged his mount into a trot. Katarina glanced back at him, urging her own mount to do likewise.

"You sure you should be riding at that pace in your condition?"

"I'll be fine," Gerard gritted his teeth against the stinging in his leg, "let's just focus on getting there."

--

Joseph reached the village shortly after dawn had broken. Unlike Kurzwiel he'd had little difficulty in finding the route, having been able to retrace his own path in the dark and therefore save valuable time. Raising his telescope he studied the stockade but could see no signs of life.

_May as well begin I suppose. _

Nudging his mount into a trot he advanced on the village.

--

TBC.

--

OOC: As always please read and review.


	38. Parting Of Ways

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

--

Katarina and Gerard halted their horses on the outskirts of the clearing, staring out at the open gates of the village.

"What do you think?"

Katarina shrugged, "it certainly looks quiet...perhaps a little too quiet."

"I know what you mean, it's been over a day since Joseph came here and we've no way of knowing what may be lying in wait there."

"Then what do you suggest warden? Do we wait?"

"For what? Even if Kurzwiel was here there's no guarantee he still is, and if he isn't then the longer we wait the more distance he puts between himself and us."

"Then we have to move in."

"Agreed, though I think a cautious approach will be greatly advised." So saying he lifted the crossbow, pushed the lever forwards and slipped a bolt into the slot.

--

The village was quiet as they entered, both holding their crossbows at the ready. Katarina was the first to spot Kurzwiel. The man lay on his back at the bottom of the path that led up to the village. He was clearly dead, blood staining his chest around a deep gash that had been opened up above his heart. Judging from the spread of the blood he could not have been lying there for more than an hour.

"Don't bother checking him;" at the sound of the voice they both twisted in the saddles, fingers on the triggers of the crossbows, "I'm afraid he doesn't have the stone any longer."

Joseph sat at the bottom of the watchtower, resting his back against the wooden structure. In his right hand he held a clay pipe from which he was drawing deep puffs, blowing the smoke back out into the cold air. He seemed totally unconcerned by either the cold or the dead man at the foot of the path and from his general demeanour he might as well have been sitting in the White Hart enjoying a drink.

"You...the bounty stipulated..." Katarina began.

Joseph grinned. "That he was to be taken alive. This is not my doing woman, the fugitive was like that when I arrived." From their expressions it was clear they did not entirely believe him. "You two can believe what you wish, but I swear it is the truth."

"And how long have you been here?"

"No more than half an hour."

"I see," Gerard shifted in the saddle, "do you know what happened to him."

"Yes, something ran him through."

Gerard scowled, "I meant in a bit more detail."

"Alright, I managed to follow his trail from the gate. It seems he went to the barn and visited one of the stalls, from the signs I would hazard that is where he concealed the stone. After that it appears he was attacked where he lies and whatever did it took the stone."

Katarina shook her head in disbelief. "To think it was right here under our very noses," she slid down from the saddle and walked over to assist Gerard. Reaching up she took hold of his waist as he swung his uninjured leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. As he steadied himself against the horse she pulled out his crutch from where it had been fastened to the saddle and handed it to him, before returning her attention to Joseph.

"Do you know what did this?"

Joseph shook his head, "I have inspected the tracks. They are not like the footprints of humans and neither are they like the cloven hoofed devices worn by the bandits."

Following the attack on the camp last night they had discovered the cause of the cloven hoofed tracks that she and the others had found when they had ventured outside the village on that misty morning. The raiders had fixed wooden sculptures, fashioned into the shape of hooves, to their boots. With practice it had been possible to walk naturally in those contraptions. She had to admit that it was a clever tactic, useful for spreading fear amongst their enemies and disguising their identities.

"What do you think could have done this?"

"I do not know but you can see the tracks for yourself down there." He gestured towards Kurzwiel's body. Katarina moved towards it, spotting the tracks in the dirt around the corpse. She could see that Kurzwiel had not died easily-there were scratch marks across his face, his chin was coated in the blood that he had coughed up during the struggle and his right hand had been partially severed. The man had given his life in an effort to protect the package in his possession.

The tracks themselves were slightly smaller than a man's footprints and were split at the ends into three clawed toes. There was also a long depression at one point in the path, as though a snake had slithered along it, except that there was no sign of this imprint either entering or exiting the path.

"These are strange tracks; I've never seen anything like these before."

"No," Joseph took another puff from his pipe, "I have but they are much larger than the ones I have seen."

"What tracks were those?" Gerard asked.

"Rats."

"Rats?"

"Yes, rats."

"I see. Whatever did this, did you see which way they went? Did the tracks reveal anything?"

The elf shook his head grimly, "I'm afraid not, I followed them to the edge of the clearing but they disappeared into the forest. I've looked around but I cannot pick them up anywhere."

There was a pause as the three of them considered the situation. With Kurzwiel dead and the stone missing without a trace they stood no chance of claiming the bounty. Now there was nothing more to be done other than to return to the Burgomaster and report their failure. Eventually Gerard broke the silence.

"You said the dead were placed in one of these huts."

"Yes."

"Will you help us bury them?"

--

Rhinehardt was buried first, laid to rest with his hands clasped across his chest around the hilt of his sword. His broken bow was placed beside him together with several arrows. As a final act Gerard fetched a leather flask of ale he had salvaged from the bandit's camp and laid it beside his friend's head. "Good luck Rhinehardt, have a drink on me." Despite his leg the warden had insisted on helping to dig the grave and the others had known better than to argue with him.

A short prayer was said and then Joseph and Katarina proceeded to shovel the earth back into the grave. Gerard watched as his friend disappeared beneath the shower of soil. Though he had not really known him long Rhinehardt had been a large figure in his life. The grizzled veteran had taught him a great deal about being a soldier, had taken him under his wing and helped him find his feet amidst the strange world of Mordheim and Ostermark. He knew it would not feel the same without him.

Sensing his grief Katarina laid her hand gently on his shoulder, "I'm sorry Gerard." It was all there was to be said.

Gerard nodded sadly, "we had best attend to the others."

--

Even with Gerard's help it was midday before they had managed to bury half the villagers. Placing them in the hut had protected the bodies from the ravages of most scavengers but had not kept out the rats. Several bodies had been gnawed upon and decomposition, although slowed by the night's cold, had already set in. The skin on the bodies had now gone pale white, with black spots marking the bruises where blows had been struck. The stench was terrible but the trio forced themselves to continue.

It was during their third break that Joseph spotted the three riders emerge from the trees. Crossbows were readied but were soon relaxed as Katarina recognised the figure of the surviving trader at their head. Greetings were exchanged and the group settled down to take a few minutes rest.

"I see you found the caves then," Katarina accepted a sip of water from the trader's flask.

The man nodded in reply, "aye, we took the horses and one of the wagons as you instructed and located those caves."

"And the others," Gerard asked with concern, "did anyone else reach them?"

"Everyone who fled the camp made it back safely including the women and children; we were the last to arrive."

"And Bertholdt, did you secure him?"

The trader nodded, "I told them we needed to interrogate him so they secured him in the back of one of the caves, well cave is the wrong word, as it turns out they're man-made structures."

"Man made?"

"Yeah, they've been there for as long as the villagers can remember. There are two of them south of here. They are just a pair of short tunnels lined with slabs of stone and each one has a fortified entrance, very useful for storage and for defence I imagine."

Gerard gave a satisfied nod, turning his thoughts back to the previous night following Joseph's departure. After he had left Katarina had taken a horse and gone back to fetch to others. When they returned she had immediately began attending to Frederick's wounds whilst Gerard kept an eye on the injured Bertholdt.

--

_Gerard leant back against the wagon, his leg propped up on a small sack. His crossbow lay beside him alongside a scimitar he had salvaged from one of the dead raiders. Bertholdt lay to his left, hands and feet securely bound although there was really no need-with the wounds he had suffered he was unlikely to try making a run for it. Despite his wounds Gerard felt no sympathy for the man. _

_As he watched the constable shifted to one side and gasped with pain as the bolt in his leg caught on the wooden planks. "Can't you get this thing out of me?"_

"_When we're ready you will be attended to."_

"_I must protest, I am your prisoner and I demand..."_

_Gerard cut him off, "you are a traitor and a murderer," he picked up his crossbow and levelled at the man's groin, "and you killed a good friend of mine. If you don't shut up right now I will take great pleasure causing you more pain!"_

_Bertholdt grinned at this threat, not believing a word of it-until he saw the look in Gerard's eyes. He suddenly decided that he had nothing further to say. _

_They sat in silence for the next half hour. At the base of the wagon Katarina knelt tending to Frederick's wounds whilst the trader stood watchfully nearby, a loaded crossbow in his hands. _

"_Right," Katarina finished applying the last bandage, "you stay there and rest. And no sudden movements understand?"_

_Frederick laughed and shifted into a more comfortable position, "not much chance of that."_

_Katarina stood up and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in her aching back. "How's your leg?"_

"_Fine thanks," Gerard smiled at her, "you have a healer's touch Katarina."_

_She rewarded his smile with one of her own, "I grew up amidst war, it forces you to learn many skills if you want to stay alive."_

"_I'm glad of it. Now," he gestured to Bertholdt with his thumb, "shall we deal with him."_

"_I think so," she hauled herself up into the wagon; "it's time we had some answers." _

_Bertholdt regarded them warily, eyes moving from the warrior woman with her still bloody hands to the warden with his levelled crossbow. "What do you want?"_

"_We want information," Gerard fixed him with a steely glare, "we have had time to discuss this turn of events and we find that parts of this puzzle do not fit. This band clearly knew about the stone-and don't pretend you don't know what we are talking about-and who was delivering it. They took pains to get you on their side and act as their spy and their main objective was to secure the artefact, the existence of which should only have been known to a few. Now the question is how could a stray band of bandits have known of its existence? There is only one answer-they were tipped off by someone, someone who knew about the stone and wished to secure it for themselves."_

"_What makes you think the bandit chief did not want it for himself?"_

_Katarina smirked at this, "do you take us for fools. We know that stone carries the power to unleash some sort of plague, no common bandit would wish to be near such a thing, and I seriously doubt their intention was to turn it over to the church of Sigmar. No they were being paid to secure it for someone else, and you are going to tell us who."_

"_Unfortunately I can tell you nothing, I was recruited by the bandit chief to act as a spy, but he only told me who I was to watch for, he never told me more than that. I do not know why he wanted the stone, and I do not know who it was who tipped him off." _

_Katarina glanced at Gerard who nodded. "You know," she turned back to Bertholdt, "it may not surprise you to hear that we don't believe you. You know who it was and you are going to tell us. You can talk willingly or we can force the truth out of you. The choice is yours."_

_Bertholdt shook his head, "I don't think so woman. You two are not cold hearted killers like me or your elven friend. There is nothing I can tell you and neither one of you has what it takes to conduct a proper interrogation so do not trouble me with idle threats." _

"_Are you sure about that," Katarina leaned in closer until their noses were almost touching, "I'll tell you a little something about myself shall I? I grew up in Kislev in a village that was constantly attacked by chaos forces, and that includes the Kurgan tribes. Out there we did what it took to survive and that included taking prisoners to get information about our enemies, and we had to devise ways to make them talk. I have been party to torture many times-my position demanded it. So I know exactly how much pressure to apply a wound like this." Saying this she placed her right hand on the wound in his leg, held him down with her left hand and leaned forward._

_Bertholdt screamed as pain shot through his leg. Katarina paused for a moment before resuming, driving more screams from her captive. Gerard watched the scene with mixed emotions-part of him wanted to make this man suffer; suffer for what he had done, for the lives he had taken. But at the same time he could not stave off a sense of revulsion at what they were doing. It was torture plain and simple. He would expect this from chaos followers but it did not feel right that he should be party to it. _

_Bertholdt screamed again as more pressure was applied to his leg. Katarina took hold of the bolt and twisted it slightly, still holding him down with her left hand. Gerard tightened his grip on the crossbow's stock. Should he allow this? Did this man really deserve this torture for his crimes? _

_An image floated before his eyes-Rhinehardt, the bluff and crass veteran who had become his mentor, struck down by this very traitor according to Joseph. Gerard pushed his thoughts of pity aside, Bertholdt had made his choice and now he could deal with the consequences. _

"_Stop please," tears of pain were coursing from the constable's eyes, "please stop that!"_

"_You can make us stop this," Katarina seized Bertholdt by the hair and pulled him up, "just tell us what we want to know, who is the one in charge of this band, who sent it to capture the stone?"_

"_Katzenbollah!" Bertholdt fell back, his cry echoed into the night air. "Katzenbollah."_

_Gerard and Katarina traded looks, taking in the significance of these words .So the Burgomaster had not been the only person to know of the stone's existence. The Baron Katzenbollah, supposedly the target of the Burgomaster's plot, had tried to beat his rival to the prize. What his motives were was anybody's guess. _

"_So, we've been caught up in the middle of a political feud," Katarina's voice was laced with anger._

"_Wish I could say I was surprised," the warden's mood matched her own._

"_Now that I've told you would you please get these bolts out of me?!"_

_Katarina shrugged, "I suppose it will do us no good if he bleeds out," she jumped out of the wagon, retrieved the cloth from which she had been tearing the bandages and climbed back up. "Now I'm pleased to say this is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me." She drew her knife and began to cut away the cloth around the constable's wounds._

--

The trader took another swig of water. "We set out after you left. As it turned out Frederick has been patrolling this area for a while and he knew where the villagers were going so we headed there. Once we had reached the caves I decided to come and check on the village. We were hoping to find some more survivors."

Joseph's face assumed a grim expression, "I am afraid you will find none, the raiders took everyone prisoner." He had discovered Michael's body shortly after his arrival. The man had been stabbed in the chest and something had torn his throat out, spraying blood across the hut. Judging by the condition of the blood it must have happened some time during the night. It was a shame really, the young man had a kind face and had certainly deserved a better end than that.

"Except for you of course," the trader did not hide the bitterness in his voice.

Joseph took a draught from his pipe, "except me."

"I understand that you rode off whilst we were fighting for our lives at the inn."

"Then you have heard the truth."

Gerard could see trouble developing and quickly raised his hands for calm, "don't go there. If this elf had not escaped then we would not be here-it was he who attacked the camp last night and made our escape possible."

"As I said before warden, your escape merely coincided with my own plans."

"Nonetheless elf, it seems that we owe you a debt."

"You owe me nothing human so put it out of your mind," the elf tapped his pipe out on the ground and got to his feet, "we will now go our separate ways now and I doubt we will meet again."

The trader looked up at him in surprise, "you mean you're leaving now?"

"Yes, my work is done and I've lost the bounty, so as of now I have no reason to stay." He turned to Katarina and Gerard, "I'm sure these three can help the two of you bury the remaining villagers. After that I advise you to gather what you need and lead the villagers back to Mordheim. The official who runs the southern sector is a decent man and I'm sure he would be willing to help them find their feet." The elf stuffed the pipe into his satchel and re-fastened his cloak. With one last glance at the freshly dug graves he began walking towards the gate. After a few steps he halted, rummaged around in the satchel and removed a leather purse which he tossed to Gerard.

The warden opened it, catching a glint of gold, "what is this?"

"What's left of my expense money, courtesy of the benevolent Burgomaster. Use what you need and return what's left to him. Tell him I'm sorry about the rest of it but that's a chance he takes when he hires someone. Also tell him I promised you fair treatment, he'll know what that means."

"What makes you think I will return it?"

Joseph shrugged, "I have a feeling you will."

"Where will you go?"

"Wherever the wind cares to take me warden, farewell." Joseph made his way over to the village gate. Pursing his lips he emitted a shrill whistle. In the clearing his horse looked up from where it was grazing and came trotting towards him. Fastening the saddle and bridle, he slid his bow into the leather straps, swung himself up into the saddle and trotted away.

Gerard watched him until he had vanished from sight amongst the trees.

"Well then. Let's get on with it."

--

TBC.


	39. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. But I have enjoyed it and it is a shame I have to bring it to an end now.

After re-reading the guidelines and the rules about author's notes I had to merge chapters 39 and 40 together to avoid violating the rules.

--

Once the remaining villagers had been buried Gerard and the others gathered what little could be salvaged from the ruins, put the remaining buildings to the torch and journeyed back to the caves. After the villagers had retrieved their livestock from the bandit's camp the group set out for Mordheim. Though they fully expected to be attacked no one assailed them and they reached the city without incident. As Joseph had promised the official of the southern sector found accommodation for the villagers. With half their numbers slain most of them chose to set up farmsteads in close proximity to the city where they would be afforded greater protection from future threats.

Gerard received neither praise nor condemnation for his efforts and returned to his duties as a road warden. Six months after the destruction of the White Hart he was promoted to rank of corporal and took command of his own patrol with whom he served for the next two years. Following the brutal suppression of a revolt in the north of Ostermark he resigned from the Burgomaster's service and journeyed west in search of employment, a choice that would eventually lead him to the city of Talabheim.

After reporting her failure to the Burgomaster, Katarina left the city and returned to her village in Kislev where her skills as a warrior and healer were soon in constant demand. Beastmen and Kurgan tribes continued to mount hit and run raids, causing the Kisletives to abandon their smaller outposts in favour of larger fortified settlements. Nearly two years after the events of the White Hart most of her village was lost whilst moving to a larger settlement. Katarina gathered her two surviving family members and headed south towards the empire in search of a safer home.

No one knew what happened to Joseph. Despite mounting a search with his network of spies the Burgomaster was never able to discover him. One rumour circulated that he had gone south to evade discovery and had found work in the accursed province of Sylvania. Another rumour suggested that he had ridden north and now served as a captain in the armies of Kislev. Neither rumour was ever proved.

Bertholdt received no mercy from the officials of Mordheim. Following his return he was brought to trial on charges of treason, looting and murder. He was found guilty sentenced to death. A large crowd gathered to witness his execution by hanging in the main square. His body was tarred and hung at the nearest crossroads as a warning to all who might choose to break the law.

The innkeeper's wife set up a new tavern within the walls of the city. In this she was assisted by both the city officials and by Gerard who made it his regular tavern. Both the maids continued on in their profession and took on jobs in the tavern. She married four years later and bore three children. Milly married two years after the attack on the village. In addition to her own children she raised the orphaned boy, who eventually recovered from his experiences.

The Burgomaster was far from pleased to learn that his stone had been taken, though the capture of Bertholdt and his confession went some way to appeasing his anger. No arrests were made in connection with the bandits but the Burgomaster made use of his newfound knowledge to increase his leverage over the baron Katzenbollah. Within two years the baron was dead, apparently poisoned by an unknown assassin. Despite their suspicions his relatives could not prove a connection to the Burgomaster. The feud between these two families was to continue when the Burgomaster's son came to power, only ceasing when both parties were wiped out by the Black Death which broke out some eighty six years later in the imperial year 1111and ravaged the empire for the next four years.

The troubles of the Ostermark did not end there, for a new foe was destined to rise in the aftermath of the plague, a foe that would bring the entire empire to its knees over the following seven years. During this time a new hero would step forward. The man's name was Count Mandred of Middenheim-later known as the Ratslayer.

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The End

_Author's Note:_ Well that's it, the story is finally finished. I must say that when I first set out to write this story I never thought it would end being this long. My draught called for thirty chapters including the epilogue, but the as I went along I kept coming across different sections that I decided to flesh out in more detail. Considering this is my first fan fiction I hope it all worked out well.

I would like to say thank you to the people who have reviewed my story, their comments encouraged me to keep going and I found their advice very helpful-I intend to keep KuMaddag's advice about duelling in mind the next time I write a story.

I have two or three possible stories in mind, one of which may be a sequel to this one. However the ideas need further development and at the moment I fully pre-occupied with my job so I am going to have to take a break from story writing for a while.

I encourage anyone who wants to try their luck at story writing to give it a go, especially Warhammer stories as there are not that many of them around. If you have an idea, see if you can develop it. Best of luck.

And as always if you read this story please review. :)

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